GATE: Worlds At War V2
by TheDrkKnight12
Summary: Seventeen years after World War 3, the world was not the same as it once was. Scarred, beaten, but not broken. As the damage heals, fate had other plans. An enemy will come and will try to claim domination over the world but made one fatal mistake. They say war is hell - now they will experience a new kind of hell.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kanochinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: All right, I have to admit it. I screwed this story up. Looking at my other stories like my High School DxD and comparing it here, I can't help but cringe…hard. I went for theatricality instead of doing what needs to be done. Well, not anymore.**_

 _ **I'm no longer continuing the first story. I'm killing it right now.**_

 _ **Special thanks to Just a Crazy-Man and Cloud Link Zero for being my beta for the reboot.**_

 _ **This is GATE: Worlds At War V2. Hope this is better.**_

 _ **Updated: 28/07/2017**_

* * *

 _ **All right, I've read enough criticism and you convinced me that I went overboard with the tech so those new hardware and programs are moved to the early stages of development and are still subject to changes. Hope you guys are a little happier now.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter I – Shattered Peace**_

* * *

 _"You know the real meaning of peace only if you have been through war." - Kosovar_

* * *

New York City is one of the largest cities in the United States of America. Before, it was but a small settlement of colonist from Europe. Now, it was literally a floating city - a modern day Atlantis if you were to compare.

This city was one of the major economic hubs of the United States. This was the place where people do business, to make money or just visit the famous sights of the city. There was the Empire State Building, along with taking a stroll around Central Park, or taking pictures down in Time Square at night and watch the lights come alive.

All around, people were going about their own business - going to their jobs, or just plain exploring. It was hard to imagine that not so long ago, the landscape had not been anything like the peaceful cityscape it was now.

It had all changed with the American-Russian War. This war marked the first time an invading army set foot on the American homeland and not only pushed them back, but nearly succeeded in overtaking the capital of the nation, Washington D.C.

It all started on the early days of the Second Russian Civil War and the Middle Eastern Conflict of the early 2010's. Russian Ultranationalists were fighting against the Government Loyalist for control of Russia and an Arab dictator by the name of Khaled Al-Asad overthrew and executed President Yasir Al-Fulani of Saudi Arabia.

Naturally, the United States and United Kingdom could not stand by and watch as the possibility of them turning Russia's entire nuclear arsenal against the world as leverage.

Feeling that action must be taken, the US sends a large task force of several divisions of the US Marine Corps to the Saudi Arabian Peninsula to remove Al-Asad from power. Across the ocean, the United Kingdom's elite 22 SAS Regiment would covertly gather intelligence deep within the war-torn Russia.

Though the US forces proved much more than a match for Al-Asad's armed forces; tragedy had struck when a nuclear weapon was detonated in the heart of the city. Over thirty thousand US personnel were killed in action with the heinous act either from the explosion itself, or the intense irradiation that came soon after.

Fearing another incident like this would occur, the US and UK decided that a joint effort between their remaining forces would be the smartest thing to do. The first priority was to neutralize the nuke launch sites as the Ultranationalists had taken control of it while the secondary objective was to find anything to help them discredit the Ultranationalists so they would not gain any more power.

Leading this operation was Capt. John Price, a hardened SAS operative who had a long and personal history with the people behind these attacks. Coordinating with the American Army Rangers and other Special Operation units, the task force designated as Task Force141 were successful in halting the launch of any more nukes and detonated the ones that had been launched and killed the man behind the assassination of the Saudi Arabian President though not without great sacrifice as all but Price and his second in command survived the last encounter.

Even with the success of the main objective, however, the Ultranationalists ultimately won the civil war and left the US weakened both politically and economically. Yet the Americans maintained their presence in the Middle East to quell further unrest that had been building up.

Years passed and relations between Russia and the Western Powers deteriorated even further because of the actions of one Vladimir Makarov, a known terrorist and Ultranationalist Leader.

Makarov led an attack on Zakhaev International Airport, killing hundreds of innocent civilians and reactionary police officers in the process. Yet it wasn't even close to being part of his true plan. Instead, the killing blow was dealt when he killed a member of his team that was secretly an American CIA agent whose role was uncovered well before the operation was even planned out.

When the Russians had figured it out due to some 'timely information leaks' the Russian head of state, President Boris Vorshevsky was under immense pressure from the people to retaliate. Even though he preferred a more diplomatic solution the pressure of his enraged country was too much for him to hold back the war hawks on the council from declaring war.

Thus, the Russian-American War began in earnest, finally ending the cold war that had been in place since the early 1950's between the two Super Nations.

As all of this was going on, unknown to both the Americans and President Vorshevsky, an ACS module of a downed US defense grid satellite was copied when Makarov took control of it. The Russians were then able to give the illusion that a massive attack was happening in the West Coast, while in actuality the attack would happen in the East.

Essentially, the US early warning system was compromised without the Americans even noticing it and it left the US wide open for attack. All because of a traitor within their own midst.

One of their finest commanders, Lieutenant General Shepherd, had betrayed them utterly and soundly. General Shepherd had served as the Supreme Commander of all US Military forces during the course of the Second Russian Civil War. Losing over thirty thousand men by nuclear fire weighed heavily on the General's mind. Those were brave men and women he had lost, many brave warriors that would have been alive today had he been less interested in results and more into intelligence results that had admittedly dropped the ball badly during that incident.

This caused General Shepherd to develop a very negative view in the world and international politics. Feeling that his country was getting too weak militarily, he secretly devised new ways to bring the United States to her former glory while also repairing his own damaged reputation.

He found it with Vladimir Makarov. Shepherd had absolutely no love for the Russian terrorist for he had been the one who ordered the detonation of the nuke that killed his men but he realized that Makarov could be just the thing he needed. The United States needed someone or something to hate; Vladimir Makarov fit the bill.

As a way to get revenge and get what he wanted, General Shepherd began manipulating things behind the scenes for years.

Wanting to see a wartime economy and combined with delusions of grandeur, he sabotaged both sides by giving Makarov everything he had used against the Americans. The codes, the identity of the mole, even going so far as to kill his own men who had found evidence of his treachery. Then he had gone on to capture and destroy all of Makarov's camps and supply lines that were given to him in 'surprise raids'. Thus giving him the popularity he had sought.

He was only stopped by two men; Capt. 'Soap' MacTavish and Capt. John Price, who had been held prisoner by Makarov's forces. Together, they killed Shepherd in a brutal and violent confrontation in the Middle East's hottest war zones not too long after he killed the last of MacTavish's group, Roach and Ghost. The great 'General' became nothing more than another name to the list of casualties when a knife was lodged into his brain.

Back over half the world away, the initial attacks on American soil were devastating. With the Russians having the immediate advantage and the US Military having been weakened over the years by Shepard's actions backfiring many important strategic battle sites and cities fell to the Russians.

It was the Battle of Washington D.C. that finally turned the tide to the defenders favor. US forces have suffered massive casualties at this point in the war. Outgunned and outnumbered, US forces in D.C. held the Russians off valiantly but it was only a matter of time before they were overwhelmed and destroyed as reinforcements were still too far away to help them.

When it looked like D.C. would fall to the Russians, a nuclear weapon that Task Force 141 had liberated with the help of Captain Price detonated in the atmosphere overhead, the EMP shorting put all electronics and plunging the entire East Coast in darkness.

In an attempt to stop the Russians when things were finally evened up between the two forces, top brass saw no other choice but to authorize Hammer Down - a complete bombardment of the US Capital. With Central Command knowing that there were still some surviving friendly forces in the city, all the bombers were ordered to broadcast a counter sign that would be the signal to abort the bombing run.

If there were still friendlies operating in the area, they would have to deploy green flares on the roof of a high value structure. Accomplish this and the bombing run would be aborted safely. Failure was the destruction of Washington D.C. and all of America's important structures of high value intelligence and symbolism.

Fortunately Hammer Down did not come to pass as the remaining US forces were able to fight through heavy Russian resistance. With the EMP scrambling both enemies' devices and under heavy rain and darkness, the defenders who knew the land better than anybody else managed to use guerrilla warfare tactics to overthrow the oppressors and successfully lit the green flares off of the White House roof along with every other Military Facility in the area.

The Battle of D.C. was won, but it was not the end of the war. All it did was finally given the United States a much needed momentum change.

To the North, the Battle of New York City was raging. After the decisive victory at Washington D.C., American forces began gaining momentum and began to push back and reclaim much of the Eastern Seaboard. It helped that the civilians that had stayed behind helped the soldiers with the little things, such as directions, giving provisions and holding their own even in the face of being gunned down in the name of defending their homes, for liberty and freedom.

The Russians were not done yet though. They had another backup plan that was just as devastating as the EMP; an electronic jammer. US communications and guidance systems were essentially rendered useless. Without these systems, US aircrafts were flying blind and were extremely vulnerable to anti-aircraft fire and with enough time, a Russian counterattack would be more than likely.

In an attempt to neutralize the threat, US Command tasked an elite team of Delta Operators whose call sign would be 'Metal' to go in and destroy the jammer on top of the Stock Exchange Building in Wall Street.

The four-man team fought their way through the war torn streets, destroyed buildings and occupied alleyways before they were successful in destroying the jammer.

With the jammer no longer wreaking havoc on their systems, US command quickly organized a series of coordinated air strikes on key Russians sites and before long, American forces was able to push the front lines all the way to the Atlantic Ocean.

This in and of itself proved to be an inconvenience of a different kind, as the Russians could still launch a counter offensive with their navy. Having most of their fleet in the New York harbor either destroyed or damaged, the Americans could not attack them head on.

Alternatively, Task Force Metal would link up with a SEAL Team to board and commandeer a Russian Oscar-II submarine, they would force the sub to surface with mines that would destroy its main engine and cause hull breaches, and use its own weapons to destroy the Russian invasion fleet.

It was a bold and ambitious gamble but it worked. This was enough to drive the battered and defeated Russians out of American territory. A victory, yes, but a costly one.

The Americans had also lost much, thousands of their warriors and citizens lay dead at their soil and much of the East Coast was in ruins.

The Russian-American War ended on August 18, 2016. But this would not be the end as a much larger conflict was brewing.

After the Russian military invasion attempt of the United States fails, Makarov plans a massive terrorist/military blitzkrieg attack on the cities and capitals of Europe with the ultimate goal of Russia being the supreme ruler of the continent.

To achieve this goal, Makarov secretly produced large arsenals of deadly chemical weapons, aided by African Militia in Somalia and Sierra Leone, to be used as a first strike weapon on many key military and government installations throughout all of Europe.

Makarov also persuaded large numbers of top Russian Generals and politicians to take part in his massive military offensive and a coup d'état to overthrow the Russian President.

Using the Russian peoples' belief that war against the US is still justified and viewing Vorshevsky's peace agreement as an act against the Russian people, a large majority of the Russian military side with Makarov.

Growing weary of the continued conflict, President Vorshevsky called for a cease fire and had invited the United States to discuss peace.

While en route to Hamburg, the plane carrying the Russian President and his daughter were hijacked by men under orders from Makarov. Though able to evade capture for a time, President Vorshevsky was eventually captured by Makarov himself.

With the coup d'état successful, Russian Commanders build up a large invasion force to take Europe.

On October 6, 2016, a phone conversation intercepted by French Intelligence is reported to MI6 regarding a shipment of mysterious cargo entering London.

They immediately alerted their interior security force MI5 to investigate. The head of MI5 tasks SAS to find out what the then unknown hostiles are up to.

SAS soldiers pursued the fleeing Ultranationalist terrorists through the London Underground, emerging outside Parliament and stopping one suspected truck. The other remaining trucks, however, exploded when their driver's suicide drove themselves into various structures and set off the timers inside of their cargo, blanketing the city with a deadly chemical agent.

London was sadly not the only capital to be attacked. All over Europe, every capital of every nation was attacked with the chemical weapon, simultaneously attacking many military bases and intelligence headquarters such as GIGN Headquarters in France, Ramstein Air Force Base in Germany and every military headquarters for each of the nation's forces; causing catastrophic loss of human life.

With the European Nations in chaos and utterly defenseless, the entire Russian military swiftly begins to invade Europe, taking almost two thirds of the European continent in a show of force that had not been seen since the Nazi's of World War II and attacking the isolated and crippled European military forces.

Realizing that the attacks were deliberate to clear the way for the Russian Blitzkrieg, the United States quickly began to mobilize every combat able asset they had to once again fight on the European continent.

Once again, for the third time in human history, war had engulfed the world.

On October 14, 2016, much of Europe had been liberated from the Russians, but a new problem came when Team Metal failed to rescue Alena Vorshevsky, the daughter of President Vorshevsky as Makarov once again remained a step ahead of them and managed to steal the VIP back.

Knowing that threatening the girl would lead the Russian to give up the nuclear launch codes, US forces linked up with the re-commissioned Task Force 141, who had been on the run since their at that time 'unjust' killing of Lt. General Shepherd whose betrayal had not yet been known. This joint operation was led by both Capt. John Price and Team Metal advisor Sandman to save the Russian President and his daughter for the peace talks to commence.

Though they were successful, almost all members of Team Metal and Task Force 141 perished.

Upon the return of President Vorshevsky to Moscow, he quickly announced a ceasefire and invited NATO delegates to peace talks.

On January 21, 2017, Vladimir Makarov was killed by a vengeful Capt. Price and symbolically ending the Third World War.

Almost seventeen years had passed since the end of World War 3 and the world was not the same as it once was. While it was true that there was peace the tension was still evident.

Though President Vorshevsky had purged the Ultranationalist extremist in his government; that did not excuse what his country did to all of Europe. Contaminating the continent with deadly chemicals, millions dead and the destruction of countless historic and very important landmarks to name just a few of the horrendous and irrevocable crimes that had millions crying out for justice.

It wasn't just the humans that suffered, but the environment as well. Most of Europe and its cities were turned into contaminated wastelands that would take years to clean up. That was also excluding all of the destroyed buildings.

This was, by far, the most destructive war ever fought. Suffice to say, Russia had paid _dearly_ just as their German counterparts had almost a century earlier.

Even though President Vorshevsky had not ordered the Russian Military to attack, this does not excuse the actions of Russia. Due to this, the United Nations ordered Russia to pay restitutions and lessen its armed forces.

Those responsible be brought up and face criminal charges in The Hague.

All in all, Russia had lost much of its power not dissimilar to the way Germany had in the last two World Wars.

On the other hand though, those seventeen years for the United States had managed to pull through. It was a victory for them, yes, but it left the Americans facing a haunting truth.

Too long they had thought themselves invincible. That no one could stand in their way. It was an arrogant way of thinking and that arrogance cost them greatly. If the September 11 attacks were a pin prick to the heart, this was a shotgun blast through the heart.

The war had been a sobering and haunting reality, a foreign army managed to penetrate their defenses and inflict devastating damage. Thousands of civilians and military personnel alike lay in cemeteries. Families mourning for their loved ones, a wife crying for her dead husband, a child left orphaned, homes destroyed.

It was a great loss…but they would recover. America always did.

After the war, the US began to rebuild itself anew. No longer would they make the same mistakes again. In time, they began to reclaim their title as a superpower. This led to new discoveries in medicine, weaponry, transportation, and many other fields of science.

The US Armed Forces grew from just over one and a half million to well over two million and were upgraded with the latest hardware straight out of DARPA. In a sad, twisted way, LTG Shepard's dream had partially come true.

This also led to the creation of a naval task group whose sole purpose was to guard the American Homeland. The task group was hastily assembled and comprised of what ships of the US Atlantic Fleet had left. Before, it had only five destroyers, two cruisers, and one super carrier.

Currently though, with the economy booming again and Congress passing a bill that increased the defense budget from six hundred and forty billion to a whopping nine hundred and sixty billion dollars, the task group, now classified as a task force, had grown in numbers and strength.

It was now dubbed as Task Force Guardian.

The increase of the defense budget meant that the military could now afford the requisition of new and more advanced equipment right out of development. It was like Christmas for the military but for over ten years, they had been using the increased budget to replenish their strength.

At the conclusion of two consecutive and bloody wars, the US Military had lost over thirty seven percent of all assets and needed to be replaced but on the bright side, the Military could replace those loses with the next generations of those models such as the AH-64E Apache, the M1A2 SEPv3 and the new M1A3, the F-35 variants, the A-10 Thunderbolt II, and the UH-60 Black Hawk to name just a few. It would take several more years to replace those significant loses but would get there.

As for the future of the Armed Forces, various new programs and proposals for new equipment were being drawn up and researched to further improve the military. The brains of the R&D department and corporations were proposing new and more powerful hardware and software. Thanks to the discoveries and advancements achieved in the fields of science and engineering, many projects from before that were particularly difficult were finally yielding results.

As for the various military branches themselves, they had quite a few things on their wish lists. We will get to that in a moment.

The navy had suffered significant loses and was in need of new ships.

One of the proposed ships was the Guardian-Class assault ship, named after the task force she was going to serve on. The Guardian-Class assault ship's overall design was based off of the discontinued America-Class ships but it was forty five percent larger so it could accommodate a small section of jet fighters as well as more troops, supplies and equipment for quick deployment, and it was powered by the newly developed nuclear fusion reactors.

Nuclear fusion reactors utilize nuclear fusion instead of fission. It was a lot like how the sun works; instead of splitting atoms apart, it fuses them. It was a revolutionary achievement as there were fewer waste products and produce energy several times that of a fission reactor.

It was not easy though but thanks to some bright young minds, they were able to pull it off.

The proposed ship is to be fitted with the latest technology available. Currently, the first ship was still in construction and eleven were planned for construction. The vessel's name was the USS Guardian and she was to be the command ship of her task force with over thirty other warships in the unit. For now, the Task Force's command vessel would be the USS America that was upgraded.

For the Army, they had begun the research of a new line of helicopters and armored vehicles that would hopefully replace their current inventory in the foreseeable future. The first type was actually in development for quite some time now under the Future Vertical Lift Program. A program issued by the Department of Defense to replace the aging rotorcraft of the military.

The first under this program is the Bell V-280 Valor. Its design is similar to the V-22 Osprey though it was sleeker in was to replace the UH-60 Black Hawks and other utility choppers and has the capability of carrying twenty five to thirty personnel. A prototype had already been developed by Bell Helicopters and Lockheed Martin in early 2013 and initial tests proved promising but there was always room for improvement so development continues.

The second type is a new revolutionary type of rotorcraft. It was a dual coaxial main rotors and a variable-pitch pusher propeller. A prototype, the S-97 Raider as a contender for the Army's Armed Aerial Scout program before it was shut down in 2013. Though this gave them an idea for the next generation of fast and maneuverable light attack helicopters.

And so, the concept for the AHX-74 Navajo was conceived.

Its design is similar to the S-97 Raider, sleek and streamlined so it could maneuver around incoming fire, but obviously larger and armored so it can store all of that ordnance and protect it against numerous direct hits.

The AHX-74 Navajos proved to be extremely agile and fast the first time it took flight. Its lightweight composite armor can withstand tremendous amounts of punishment before breaking and strategically placed along vital areas. Alongside the latest in targeting and optics systems, it has an effective kill range of thirteen to seventeen kilometers if armed with long range missiles.

Development of the AHX-74 Navajo and the Bell V-280 Valor still continues but it would not go into production for another forty or so years and the two were still subject to changes.

As for the armored forces, or in this case, the main battle tanks, the successor to the M1A2 Abrams was undergoing further research and development.

The M2S1 Schwarzkopf, named after the late General Herbert Norman Schwarzkopf Jr., the commander of the UN Coalition forces in Operation Desert Storm and is intended to be a modular tank.

Development of the M2S1 Schwarzkopf first started six years after the conclusion of World War 3. The M1A3 Abrams was in its final developmental stage and would start production in a few years and succeed the M1A2 series but commanders felt that they needed a new design once the Abrams were retired in the next six to seven decades or so.

While the Abrams was considered by most as one of the most powerful and fearsome tanks in the world and it still is, there was only so much you could do to upgrade it until there was nothing left.

And so, taking inspiration and adopting new concepts from the British Challenger 2, the German Leopard 2A7, the Israeli Merkava 4 and the Russian T-14 Armata, the M2S1 Schwarzkopf was conceived.

While a prototype has yet to be developed, computer simulations of the new tank design have yielded promising results.

It is armed with the newly designed M256A2 L/55 120 mm smoothbore cannon that has an effective kill range of nearly 1.8 times that of the Abrams' effective kill range, two 7.62 mm machine guns, a coaxial gun, and the ever classic Ma Deuce. It could even be outfitted with an M134 minigun or the more powerful GAU-19/A.

It is armored by the next generation of composite armor that is both lightweight and approximately forty five percent stronger than those currently in service. A slab of this new armor was crafted and when tested, the new armor could survive two direct hits from an Abrams tank before finally being destroyed. It might not be much but an Abram's M256A1 120 mm smoothbore cannon can launch a projectile that can easily slice through over a foot of pure steel.

It is also protected by an anti-rocket system called the Trophy System that has been modified by the US. Initially employed under the Israeli Defense Force to protect their Main Battle Tanks and other armored vehicles, the United States as well as other countries have since employed it into their own forces.

An added bonus was it lightened the tank considerably. The Abrams tank weighed close to eighty tons fully loaded and was difficult move and transport due to its sheer weight - often caving in loose ground and weak structures under its treads. Now, thanks to the stronger and lighter armor system, the M2S1 Schwarzkopf weighed in at fifty seven to sixty five tons when fully loaded. It was still heavy but the difference in tonnage was not to be dismissed so easily.

Currently, the M2S1 Schwarzkopf was still in its infancy in development and a prototype of the next gen tank would not be built in the foreseeable future; not while the Abrams was still going strong. In the meantime, the scientists and researchers would have plenty of time to further improve on the design.

For the Air Force, they felt that they needed to make plans to replace some of their more ageing aircrafts with new blood. In addition to the F-22 Raptor and the F-35 Lightning, the F/A-13 Scorpion represents the next generation of jet fighter craft of the US Air Force.

The F/A-13 Scorpion is a twin engine, all-weather stealth multirole fighter with heavy emphasis on air superiority and it is also capable of ground attacks. Basically, the F-22 and F-35 combined.

Development of the F/A-13 Scorpion had only started fifteen years after the war so it still had several years before a prototype can be introduced.

While these are only a few of the newer equipment that the US Military plans to put into service, all of them were still in the very early stages of development. In general, it would take another forty years or more before they could even be be considered for production and service and another twenty years to have a sizable amount of them in the inventory, and sixty years was a long time – plenty of room for improvement.

With a booming economy and a better equipped military, the United States has further solidified itself as the world's superpower.

Still, the damage done to the US homeland has yet to be resolved. Much of the cities in the East Coasts were in ruins after the Russians had withdrawn and there was still much rebuilding to do.

It would take another several years to fix everything, even with the new advancements of technology.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: MANHATTAN**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:24:12**_

* * *

In a subway train heading towards the famous Time Square, was 1st Lieutenant Derek Westbrook, U.S. Army Special Forces, renowned Delta Force operator, and former member of Team Metal.

Derek sat in the carriage with a neutral expression on his aged face. He was now in his mid-forties and with the years serving in the military, he looked older than he already is.

He was a veteran of many operations in his career as a soldier, and had fought in God knows how many wars. Because of this, he had become quite the legend in the U.S. Special Operations Forces.

It still amazed him that he had lived after all of that.

Derek was the youngest member of Team Metal, only twenty seven years old when the Russian-America War broke out. He had fought in the Middle East, Africa, Washington D.C., New York, Europe, all over the world really. In his long career, he had seen it all and done it all.

Between the wars and the years that followed with him going on mission after mission, the mental and physical strain has not been kind in the slightest.

The memory of his team dying in some Russian mine while he was in a fucking hospital because of some Russian sniper nailing him in the thigh after that chopper carrying Alena Vorshevsky was still fresh in his mind. Couple that with the fiasco where his entire team was killed stopping a terrorist cell in Somalia, he was barely holding it together and that was just the latest of the horrors he had to endure.

Derek closed his eyes; he could still see his team getting shot to pieces one after another until only he was left. Well, let us just say, he would rather die than let those fuckers take him alive. Derek was ready to pull the pin on his last grenade and lunge at the closest bastard he could get; he would take him to hell with him.

He was ready to die at that point. There was no way out, his team was mincemeat and the enemy was only yards away from his position but fate had other plans as air support had finally arrived.

He made sure to give his team the honors they deserved having served with them for years and growing close. Heh, and just as he was about to get over the guilt of losing Team Metal, this shit happens.

Well, there was nothing he could do with that. When you are in the military, you see shit, do shit, and lose some buddies. It was the life of a soldier and the only way Frost could cope with that was going on more missions.

 **"We are now approaching Times Square – 42 St. We are now approaching Times Square – 42 St."**

Derek let out a sigh. This was his stop now. Why was he here in New York? Simple, he was on leave. His commanders felt like he needed some time off and a little R&R. That was the last damn thing he needed. He did not need some rest, he was fit and able for duty…but orders were orders…

Steeping out of the carriage, the Delta Operator walked towards the check-out station and shoved his card into it. The gate opened up and he walked right on towards the exit.

Upon exiting the station, he looked all around him and he could see people wandering the streets, acting like nothing ever happened. Guess that is how the civvies cope after New York City was a smoldering pile of rubble over a decade and a half ago.

The scars of the war remain present to this day…especially on Wall Street. All Frost could see was rubble everywhere, cruise missiles slamming into the buildings, Russians at every corner…these people do not know what kind of hell their soldiers face during and after a war.

Or maybe they do now. After all, rebuilding was still going on and people just don not forget how they were invaded so quickly. Maybe they just chose to ignore it and live on.

Lucky bastards.

They do not know what it feels like to slit a man's throat. They do not know what it feels like to see one of your guys get blown to pieces. They do not know what it feels like to have nightmares every fucking time you go to sleep.

That is why soldiers who saw too much were never really cut out to be civilians anymore. War was far too ingrained in them and they felt like caged animals sometimes.

For someone who has been in the game for as long as he has, it is really all they had left at this point. Of course, he did have a few flings here and there but they were mostly one night stands. The only one he got serious with was with a soldier when he was ordered to train some visiting Canadian JTF2. Her name was Sgt. Sarah Tremblay and she was one woman that Derek actually liked but their relationship was casual at best.

Eventually, they decided to break it off after a year and a half. They still kept in contact as friends but it was minimal due to their line of work with their last talk being about a year ago. A part of him wanted to see her again but the darker side of him wanted to puke at being all lovey dovey.

As for family, his parents were still alive. His old man was military too; he served in the Gulf Wars and in Iraq. His mother was a waitress in a restaurant in his dad's hometown in Littleton, Colorado. He also has a little sister; a single mom after her deadbeat husband cheated and dumped her. She lives just a few houses from their parent's house with her son, Simon.

Derek has not really talked with them for a while because he did not have the time…or he did not want to. They still sent him mail, gifts for birthdays and he did the same, but actual visual contact was not in the foreseeable future.

The Delta Operator grunted before walking around aimlessly. He did not need a fucking leave. He was functioning properly and was ready and able for anything. Orders were orders though and he was ordered to take it easy for the next few weeks.

Easier said than done in his honest opinion yet unknown to him, today was going to change the world forever.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: TIMES SQUARE**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:26:02**_

* * *

A little girl was walking with her parents and a precious little teddy bear tucked in her arms. Today was going to be them going to get some lunch before watching a movie until something caught her eye. To her left, at the center of Time Square, was something really strange.

She looked dumbfounded until she felt her parents tug on her sleeve to gain her attention. Having lost interest, she went along.

Time Square was at a standstill. People and cars stopped in their tracks because at the center was some sort of building or something that had suddenly appeared out of thin air.

"What the hell?"

"Where did this come from?"

"How the fuck did it get here?"

These were but a few questions asked by the people there. This building looked old and looked like something from ancient Roman times judging from its design. And the middle of it was all black. Like it was hollow, maybe some kind of opening to the inside of it.

Before anyone could ask anymore, something came out of the structure. It was big, red, and scaly and the moment the entirety of its body came out, a large roar was heard coming from its mouth.

Anybody who played video games of any kind knew what kind of creature this was. A dragon…an angry dragon at that.

The people that had stood there and watched were left in a state of shock, unable to believe what just happened. It had such a commanding presence that they did not even notice that other creatures were coming through as well.

* * *

As Derek was calmly walking southbound on 7th Avenue, he began to notice that traffic was increasing. Well, it IS New York and there were a lot of construction trucks moving about so he just pegged it as an average day in Manhattan.

Choosing to ignore it, Frost just went on his way. If he was on leave, he might as well enjoy it; the nearest bar was three hundred and twenty meters South West from the 42 St. Station.

He was about halfway from the bar until he heard screaming. When he turned around, he had to jump back and hug a nearby storefront window as he saw people running away from Times Square in a mass panic. "What the fuck?" He muttered in confusion before he saw an explosion a few hundred meters right at Times Square should be.

Derek's eyes widened in surprise. Was this another attack? If so, how the hell were not they detected?! Those were questions were later here, right now, he needed to act.

With no hesitation, he raced right towards Times Square to assess the situation.

* * *

The moment Count Colt Formal saw what was on the other side of the Gate, he knew that the Empire had bitten off far more than it could chew.

Just look at this…structures that easily dwarfed anything they had back at the capital and they were a lot of them…as far as the eye could see. Then there were these strange signs with those bright moving pictures…it could only mean that this civilization used magic so much that it was practically ingrained in them.

Count Formal did not want to be here in the first place. He would rather be at home and be with his young daughter and teach her what it means to lead Clan Formal. But he didn't have a choice in the matter.

He could not refuse an order from the emperor himself or it was treason. Treason was a punishment that nobody wanted on their consciousness, as it meant the complete and total destruction of their family lineage, no matter how distant it ran.

So, he only took a small force of two thousand men of the five thousand of his full force. Count Formal was no fool…if he left with all of his forces that would leave his precious Myui defenseless. He would never forgive himself if something happened to her if he came back.

Judging by the situation he was seeing right now…the prospect of getting back looked grim.

Just then, the order to attack was given and the Imperial soldiers began slaughtering their way.

Count Formal frowned as his men joined in it. He gave them strict orders to not prolong the suffering of the people here and anyone caught raping or doing any other heinous acts would face death when they returned home.

He never believed in violence and intimidation as the answer for most problems. He believed diplomacy and alliances, not this.

Seeing the massive pile of bodies beginning to pile up as panic mounted, Count Formal felt disgusted as some soldiers and the commander of this expedition climbed on top of the bodies of men, women and children, and stuck the Imperial Flag on top of them.

 _"All of you savages listen well! We, the Empire in the name of his Imperial Majesty Molt Sol Augustus, declare the conquest and dominion of all these lands!"_ After his bold declaration, he ordered his men to move forward to send these savages a message that they were now under the Empire's rule.

He smiled in satisfaction before he noticed that Count Formal was still standing at where he was. _"Count Formal, what are you doing? Why are you not participating in subjugating these worthless dogs?"_

Count Formal frowned. _"Savages? Worthless dogs? My Lord, look around you. These structures easily dwarf anything the capital has. If anyone is capable of these marvels, they are not savages."_

The General scoffed. _"Bah, these mean nothing to the beauty of the Empire. If anything, they should be grateful that we have come here to rule them."_

Letting out a breath, Count Formal looked forward. _"You don't quite understand, do you? If these people have the ability to construct these many titanic structures…I shudder to think what their army is like."_

 _"IF they resist us, we will crush them like always. None can stand against the Empire!"_ The Imperial Legate arrogantly announced to those around him before walking off.

Count Formal shook his head before looking up at the blue sky. _"You're wrong. I fear what awaits us next is nothing short of frightening."_

* * *

Derek came running opposite to the fleeing crowd into Times Square. What the hell was going on here?! He was confused, who the hell were these guys?! How did such an enemy force get into US soil?!

And why the hell did most of them look like something from a goddamn fantasy novel?!

These were questions for later, however. Right now, these fuckers were killing his countrymen. As a soldier of the United States, it was his duty to defend his country to his last breath!

The Delta Operator saw two police officers trying to cover the fleeing civilians and hurried towards them. "Sir, you have to get out of here! These sons of bitches are killing anyone their getting their hands on!" A young officer, clearly panicking, shouted at him.

"Calm down, son! I'm 1LT Derek Westbrook of the US Army! I need you to call for back-up! Everything you got and form a collapsing perimeter and cover the civilians!" Frost gave his orders before one of them got hit with a spear through the chest.

"GARY!" The other officer shouted in a panic.

"HEY!" Derek grabbed him by the shoulder. "We need to go! NOW!" Not waiting for a response, he pushed the kid back and grabbed the pistol from the dead officer's hand, and gave covering fire.

"GO! GO! KEEP MOVING!" He shouted to the civilians as he shot some strange looking pig monsters. He spotted a wall of shields coming towards them and pulled the trigger. Empty.

Cursing under his breath, Derek reached for the two extra magazines on the corpse's belt and the radio before retreating himself. This was not good. The enemy was organized and looked like all they were doing was killing. He needed to call the cavalry right fucking now!

When he was at a safe distance, Derek set himself up against the side of a building and commenced shooting again. In the distance, he could hear the sirens of police cars blaring. Good, but they needed to be informed of what they were getting into.

"All police personnel on this net, this is 1LT Derek Westbrook of the U.S. Army. The enemy is large, organized, and well-armed. My advisement to you is to set up a perimeter on 42nd and 51st Street. How copy, over."

"This is Sergeant Polanski, roger that, sir. Any chance you can get the cavalry here?"

"I'm working on it, Sergeant! Now get you men set up, civilians are getting chopped up here!" He did not wait for a reply before he unloaded on some guys that were getting too close before retreating.

When he was at a safe distance again, Derek took out his phone and dialed the Emergency Military Channel. As it was ringing, he took a few more potshots to give cover.

"This is the emergency military channel, please state your-"

"First Lieutenant Derek Westbrook, United States Army, Delta Force, DOD number: 7796062134! Priority message to Task Force Guardian! Authorization: Uniform Alpha Tango 77581!" He fired another shot to some Roman looking motherfucker right between the eyes and he fell dead on the street.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: USS AMERICA - SIX MILES OFF COAST**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:31:42**_

* * *

Today was just a routine patrol out of the coast of Manhattan and down in her communications center were men and women doing their jobs efficiently and effectively. Even though the war was over and the world was now at peace, they could not afford to become lax. If there is anything they learned from being invaded, it is being vigilant.

In one of the consoles, an ensign was stretching his shoulders a little bit because sitting in the same chair for hours can do that to a guy.

Ensign Peter O. Duncan has been at this since morning already but he cannot complain. This was easy compared to the other duties on the ship. Besides, all he had to do was answer any calls that came to the ship. There were some calls but those were regular things like status reports and the like. Those he could just transfer to the appropriate people

Then he received another call. "This is the USS America."

"USS America, this is a priority message call from an off-duty Delta Force Operator in New York. Authorization: Uniform Alpha Tango 77581."

The Ensign's eyes widened in surprise. If this is a priority message from a Special Operations soldier in New York, it had to be serious. "Patch him through. Caller, this is the USS America. Identify yourself."

"This is 1st Lieutenant Derek Westbrook! United States Army, Delta Force! DOD number: 7796062134!"

Peter could feel his jaw muscles loosening when he heard who this is. This was Derek Westbrook, one of the most decorated Special Ops soldiers in the service and had a fearsome reputation. This guy was practically a legend. The kind of legend you seriously do not want to fuck with. "First Lieutenant, what is your priority message?"

"A large enemy force has appeared in the middle of Times Square!"

"That's impossible!" With his shout, the entire room looked at him in confusion. "They were no breaches in our defenses, how can an enemy force attack Manhattan?!" What he said made the entire room freeze up in shock.

"Don't believe me then check the fucking news! The NYPD's encircled them but we are heavily outnumbered! We need the Marines now!" They heard gunfire and screaming from his side before being abruptly cut off.

"Jack, turn the TV to the news!" Peter said. Before he can commit to this, he needed to make damn sure. But with the screaming and the gunfire he heard from the other side…he hoped this was just a sick joke.

They turned to the news channel and they waited.

"This Kate Hudson WNBC News reporting live from West 41st Street. Not long ago, a large group of armed men suddenly appeared in the middle of Times Square. We don't exactly know how it happened, but after they appeared they started killing civilians left and right." The reporter said as dozens of civilians ran past her. Behind her were a group of NYPD police and SWAT officers trying to form a defensive line. "The NYPD have encircled and locked down the area, and are trying to establish a defensive line."

"They're coming!" A fleeing civilian said and they all saw a wall of shields and grotesque monsters came marching towards them.

"Oh my God, Harry, get a shot of them!" Kate said as her cameraman moved to catch a glimpse of the attackers.

What the US servicemen saw shocked them. It seemed impossible…but here it was…grotesque looking monsters of all shapes and sizes. Some recognized them as orcs, goblins, and ogres from those fantasy novels and TV shows.

Their shock was quickly replaced with anger when they saw them killing their civilians.

"Open fire!" A police officer ordered and the lot of them let loose a hail of gunfire on the advancing hostile force. The sailors watched in satisfaction as a lot of those fuckers get cut down.

Not long though, one of those monsters heaved a car and threw it straight at their boys. "OH MY GO-"That was all Kate Hudson could get out before her feed was abruptly cut off. It did not take a genius to realize what had happened to them.

There was a tense silence inside the communications deck, the sailors needing a moment to collect themselves from the shock of a lifetime. It did not last long though.

"SOMEONE GET THE CAPTAIN!"

* * *

Up on the bridge, Captain James L. Mitchell, an old and grizzled man, was enjoying a good cup of coffee and watching the waves roll by. Make no mistake, he had fought in the bloody war seventeen years ago and he had the scars to prove it. He also lost a lot of good men and buddies…not to mention his son-in-law and left his daughter too soon especially with a kid on the way.

He thought that it might do him some good to catch that salty see air. After all, fresh air helps a lot when one needs to calm his nerves even if said airs smells like salt but that was okay for a sailor like him.

"Sir!" One of his subordinates slammed the door open and the Captain was slightly startled that he almost spilled his coffee.

"Goddammit, boy! You almost made me drop my coffee!" Capt. Mitchell said more than a little annoyed at being disturbed like that.

"I'm sorry, sir, but you have to see this." The sailor said with urgency that made the Captain frown.

"What do you mean sailor?"

"A priority call from the mainland, sir. A Lieutenant Derek Westbrook, US Army Special Forces, has asked for immediate troop deployment within the city. He says it's under attack from a large enemy force!"

Mitchell's eyes widened in shock. "What?!" He turned to the main land and saw that there were dozens of smoke stacks coming from the Big Apple. It made his blood run cold.

He immediately entered the bridge and saw the monitors and TVs showing footage of butchered bodies, burning buildings, and the NYPD trying to fight back against something.

"Patch me through to him!" He ran to the bridge and opened up a link to the Delta Force Operator. "1LT Westbrook, this is CAPT Mitchell of the USS America. What the hell is going on there?" Everyone on the bridge stopped what they were doing and watched their captain.

"Sir, you need to send in reinforcements now! A large enemy force has appeared out of fucking nowhere in the middle of Times Square! Sending you a feed now!"

The screen faded black before the connection was reestablished showing the head cam. People were running and screaming right past as Derek led a few officers in holding off the enemy.

"Go! Go! Watch the right! The Right!" He roared as he and his rag tag team held off the hostiles but a few civilians did not make it as they were brutally smashed to mush by some ugly giant.

The giant was then killed with extreme prejudice as its eyes were shot through with what appeared to be a high powered velocity rounds from an assault rifle.

"What the fuck was that?!" An officer shouted before they saw a lone figure charging through the street with several of the enemy hostiles charging through close behind. The man stutter-stepped and opened fire as he turned around for one brief moment before running towards the safety of the NYPD and the Delta Force Operative.

"Second Lieutenant Eric Wilson, Green Berets! I have no idea what the fuck is going on, but I just killed a god damn dragon not too far from the corner of 40th Street and 7th Avenue and this fucker just now. Be advised to whoever is in charge, these enemies are low tech, but extremely high in number! We WILL be overrun within the next hour if we do not get reinforcements god damn yesterday! The NYPD set up a perimeter in the building where the New York Comic-Con is behind held but they are running low on men and ammo!" He shouted at Derek before everybody ducked as several arrows of all things whizzed alongside their heads. Then everyone began to open up in retaliatory fire.

Once they crew saw what had killed them, they couldn't help but feel dumbstruck. "What the actual fuck?" One ensign uttered in disbelief; correctly summing up what they were all thinking.

This…how could this be possible? That sort of thing should only be found on a fucking book…or the internet.

"Shit! Left side, look out!" Just like that, the feed was lost and everyone on the bridge stood in shock. Their home was once again being attacked…but by something out of this world.

Gaining his wits about him, CAPT Mitchell started giving orders. "Sound the general alert! I want troops on the ground and birds in the air A-fucking-SAP! You heard the men down there, reinforcements are being sent in yesterday!" Right after his command, an ensign hit the general alert and horns began blaring all over the ship.

"All hands, this is CAPT Mitchell! Red alert, I say again, red alert. This is not a drill! A large enemy force has infiltrated our defenses and is attacking Manhattan! I want all available units in New York now!"

Down below, the marines numbering well over two thousand and the sailors were all gearing up. When the general alert was sounded and that the mainland was once again being attacked, they wasted no time.

Whoever they are, how many they are, they would kick their asses off their home and take the fight to them.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: USS AMERICA - SIX MILES OFF COAST**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:37:11**_

* * *

The USS America was abuzz with activity. On the flight decks was about six V-22 Ospreys, four UH-60 Black Hawks and four AH-1Z Viper were all spooled up and ready to go.

"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" A Marine Captain led about one hundred and fifty men to the transport choppers. They would be deployed as the QRF.

The NYPD were being led by an off duty Delta Force operator and being assisted by an equally off duty Green Beret member but there were simply too many hostiles and they had no choice but to retreat while firing back. They needed reinforcements and they needed it now.

While the QRF deploys by air, the remaining Marines and their armor would deploy by amphibious landing crafts.

Not long after the horn was sounded, the Marines were strapped in and ready to go. "All units, this is Capt. Jorgenson. Status report." The Marine Captain ordered. When all of his men replied in the affirmative, he nodded to himself. "Sir, we're ready to go. Over."

Up at the bridge, Capt. Mitchell oversaw everything and once he was told that everyone was all set, he gave the order. "Launch!"

 **"You are cleared for take-off. Launch! Launch! Launch!"**

A sailor gave the signal for them to launch and the crafts did so. Down below, the huge ramp of the USS America opened up as scores of landing crafts carrying Marines and armor headed full speed towards Manhattan.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: WASHINGTON, D.C. - THE WHITE HOUSE**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:45:09**_

* * *

The President of the United States was enjoying a nice glass of bourbon in his office. For once he had no overwhelming amounts of paperwork piling up at his desk or some sort of situation hovering over his head so he wanted to soak in the quiet while he could.

He smiled as he watched his wife watching over their kids who were playing with their puppy. It was times like these that he cherished the most, the peace that came after wartime.

Of course, being the most powerful man in the country has its downsides. After the war, there was a lot of cleaning up to do. And seventeen years later, there were still much to do not just here, but all over the world. Each of his predecessors had fought an uphill battle with Congress to get things done, but get done they did.

President Charles D. Jameson felt he did a good job handling things after the rather turbulent string of elections that took place afterwards. Every four years it seemed that one of the major political parties took office when the other slowed. Under him, the country was healing at a fair pace, the economy was growing again and their military was stronger than ever. People were happy and doing their share of the work rather than trying to point the finger at someone.

Charles took another sip of his bourbon with a small humming satisfaction. This day cannot go wrong. Looking back, he would admit he should have known better than to tempt fate like that.

Just then, there was a knock on the door of his office. "Come in." He announced and the one that entered was General Jerald T. Drummond. He had been the replacement of LTG General Shepherd and managed to undo much of the mental conditioning that psychopath put on a chunk of fresh young officers that came straight from boot camp.

"Ah, General. What a surprise to see you here." Charles smiled before pouring another glass. "Take a seat and have a drink."

GEN Drummond shook his head. "Thank you, Mr. President, but what I'm about to tell you is of extreme importance."

The President frowned. "All right…so what is it?"

"Sir, as of 10:26…New York found itself under attack by a large unknown enemy force."

Upon hearing this, Pres. Jameson almost dropped his glass as he eyes widened in shock. "What do you mean New York is under attack?!" He stood up and looked at his General in the eyes.

"It is as I said, sir. An unknown enemy force is attacking Manhattan. How they got through our defenses, I don't know. But we NEED to act now." There was urgency in his didn't show it, but he was angry. Seventeen years of rebuilding…and this happens.

Charles gritted his teeth. Why…why did this have to happen? They already went through two consecutive wars…they just wanted peace now…and someone dares to attack them like this?!

"What is the situation there now?"

"Unclear. We have unconfirmed reports that the enemy is large, but they are armed with only swords and spears. Task Force Guardian is sending her Marines to assist the police who are being led by an off duty Delta Force soldier. They just got an off duty Green Beret assisting them. He mentioned that the police set up a perimeter for fleeing civilians at the building where a convention was being held before the transmission was cut off. We have a copy of the footage but sir…I have to admit this is something you'd have to see to believe."

The President nodded grimly. "General, I don't care how you do it. Just neutralize the threat by any means you see fit. Then find out everything you can about them. Whoever they are, they _will_ pay for this."

With his orders received, GEN Drummond nodded. "Understood, Mr. President. I'll active contingency 'Eagle Eye'." He gave a salute before leaving the office where the President could only sigh as his phone rang. No doubt the media wanting to get an official statement from him. In this case…they would have to wait.

With 'Eagle Eye', the Army, Navy and Air Force would make simultaneous strikes on core enemy choke points via satellite live image feedback. This was the first time it was going to be put in use and he was going to make sure that he would see this through.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: MANHATTAN ISLAND - 35TH STREET**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 11:33:16**_

* * *

Things were not looking pretty good for Derek and his rag tag team of police officers and his lone Green Beret companion. True, they managed to slow these fuckers down and saved the lives of many fleeing civilians but they were just too many of them.

It was like there was an endless wave of these bastards! They kill one and three takes his place. The NYPD has encircled the Time Square area for blocks and locked it down, but they were being pushed back by the sheer number of them. That didn't even cover the three other perimeters that had been set up for civilian evacuation within a ten block radius.

Derek could not help but curse as he kept on the pressure. Most of the civilians were already evacuated but they were being pushed back. He could take comfort that he had saved a lot of lives organizing the defense, but he could not think of that now.

From their initial defensive position on 42nd St., they were pushed all the way back to 35th St. What was even worse…was that they were all running low on ammo.

"There's too many of 'em!" A SWAT officer hollered over as they tried to hold the defensive line. A very hard thing to do when hundreds of enemies were coming towards them

"Just shut the hell up and keep shooting!" Yelled another in response before grabbing a canister of tear gas from his vest. "This should slow these bastards down. Tear gas out!" He tossed the canister at them and it did the trick, they became disorientated with the gas.

This gave them the breather they needed to shoot and fall back because their position was already compromised.

When they reached their new defensive line, they dug in. "Ammo count!" Frost ordered as he too checked his load out. He cursed when he only had a single magazine left for his M4A1 and no more for his sidearm.

"I'm running low here, sir."

"I got two mags left."

"I'm down to my sidearm and three magazines."

"I got seven shells left."

Frost frowned; they were all almost out of ammo. Over the radio, he was hearing chatter about the NYPD holding each perimeter, designated 'safe zones' but they were dangerously outnumbered and were being beaten back inch by inch.

If help did not come soon, they would be overrun and be slaughtered before the sun would set.

"Okay, how many more tear gas or flashbangs you got?" Frost asked.

"Only got three left and four flashbangs left, sir."

The Delta Operator nodded. The officers can hold out just a bit longer with those but it would only buy the brave souls several precious minutes of time that they did not have currently.

Looking at the Green Beret, who had been dressed in a graphic design t-shirt with what looked to be some sort of ninja swordsman on it and jeans, he did not seem to fit the bill of a soldier. Despite not looking the part, his aim, timing and skill were all things to be respected of someone that had joined a prestigious position like that. It reminded Frost in his days when he was a Green Beret before he became Delta

"How about you Wilson?" he asked.

The Beret grunted as he took out a pig looking man with a bullet between the eyes of a handgun that he had borrowed from a fallen police office and shook his head.

"Mag and a half for the Assault Rifle. Set in three burst semi-auto I'd run dry in about two minutes. Pistol has 3 clips but that's all I got." He admitted; himself growing a bit nervous at their situation.

Nodding, Frost returned his attention back to the front where the enemy seemed to have broken through the tears gas. "All right, get ready. Here they come."

 _'Goddammit, where's the fucking cavalry? We won't last long here.'_

* * *

Back at Times Square, the Imperial Legate was feeling pretty good about himself. His forces have pushed deep within this large city and had killed a lot of these savages.

True, some had fought but they were quickly cut down. It just goes to show that one needs to send a clear and brutal message that they should not cross the Empire.

What is more, his men had captured a good number of these savages; about fifty at least. They would make good slaves, especially the women. They were of all sizes, shapes and color. Some quite exotic and whom he had planned to 'taste' himself personally before turning them over.

 _"You see, Count Formal? Your worries were misplaced. These savages are not even worth the time of my army."_ The Imperial Legate said smugly.

Count Formal frowned but before he could say anything, he heard this weird thumping noise in the distance. _"Do you hear that?"_

The Imperial Legate nodded. _"Yes…it is probably their army. Good, it will be a pleasure to crush them."_

The thumping noise became louder and louder that they almost though that it was thunder until right overhead of them, they saw these massive flying creatures…and they were many…about ten of them at least.

 _"What in the name of Emroy?!"_ The Imperial Legate uttered, awed at the sight. Were those dragons? If so…why did they look like they were made of metal?!

While the rest were still gaping, only Count Formal's face was grim. He had a feeling that this was only the vanguard…and that the full force would soon follow.

* * *

On the lead Osprey, Capt. Jorgenson was getting along with all of his men. The trip to the mainland did not take long, only less than eight minutes. That was very good as their boys needed their help ASAP.

"This is Red Rider 4 Actual of Task Force Guardian to all engaged NYPD personnel in the area. I have a full company of Marines and fours Vipers ready for tasking. Please respond. Over." The Captain said over the radio.

"Red Rider 4 Actual, this is Sgt. Kimberly. You have no idea how glad we are to hear ya'! The NYPD has encircled the Times Square area but we're heavily outnumbered! Any chance you can lend a hand?!"

"Roger that. We are sending Marines and air support your way. Red Rider 5, take half of the flight and two Vipers with you, and head to the Northern defensive line and help however you can. Then make a strafing run on the East and South lines before returning for a refuel or an ammo run."

"Roger that."

Half of the QRF peeled off and headed for the Northern perimeter while the rest moved to the South. "Red Rider 4 Actual to all friendly forces South of Time Square, what is your situation. Over."

They all waited in tense silence before the radio crackled to life. "Red Rider 4 Actual, this is 1LT Westbrook! We need air support now! My guys are almost out of ammo and we cannot hold them off any longer! Marking enemy position with green smoke! I say again, green smoke! Send whatever you got!"

Hearing the urgency of the situation, Capt. Jorgenson knew they needed to act fast. "Roger, Lieutenant. Air support's on the way just hold on. Arclight 1 and 2, get your asses over there and take them out. Our boys can't hold on much longer."

"Roger that." The two Vipers raced towards the South and not long, they saw the green smoke marking the enemy position.

Back on the ground, Derek and his men were in deep trouble as they fell back. The enemy was charging straight at them and they were down to their last rounds.

"Where the hell is the goddamn air support?!" A SWAT officer shouted, expending his last pistol rounds. "Shit! I'm out!"

"Tear gas! Use the tear gas now!" One of them yelled before getting skewered through the chest by a thrown spear.

"Simmons! You sons of bitches!"

Derek fired his last round before switching to his pocket knife. If he was going down today, hewas taking ten of these assholes with him to hell!

"1LT Westbrook, this is Arclight 1 and 2. Advise you to run like hell. We're coming in hot." Finally, air support had arrived and not a minute too soon.

"Everyone, hit the deck! Vipers on the way!" No sooner did they start running like hell, the two Vipers flew in from the South and unleashed their arms on the enemy formation.

Red hot 20 mm shells and rockets rained down upon the enemy, shredding them and blowing them all to pieces. They foolishly tried to rise up those flimsy shields of theirs, but those shells could penetrate steel. They were just useless against these kinds of ordnance.

"Red Rider 4 Actual, Arclight. Area secure. You are cleared to land. Over."

"Roger that, Arclight. /Break/. Arclight, we still have hostile forces putting on the pressure on the NYPD. Are you still up for tasking?" Capt. Jorgenson asked as the three Ospreys and two Black Hawks proceeded to land while the Vipers provide cover.

"Can do, sir."

"Copy. I'm handing you over to Sgt. Kimberly, she'll direct your runs. Over."

"Roger that. Give them hell, boys. Arclight is moving out." The two Vipers pulled away for further tasking as the transports unloaded their Marines before taking off and began circling the skies.

"Secure the perimeter!" Capt. Jorgenson ordered.

"Area clear!"

"Hey! We got some live ones here!" A Marine announced as he spotted four men on the ground. "C'mon, let's get them up."

Three other Marines quickly moved in to assist their downed men. "Easy there. We got you." A Marine said as he helped up a clearly dazed officer. He was banged up but he would live.

"Just take it easy, man. Another Marine said before Capt. Jorgenson came up to them.

"I'm Capt. Jorgenson. Which one of you is 1LT Westbrook?" He asked, wanting to know just what kind of enemy they were facing. Who better to ask than the man who initiated the defense?

Derek coughed up some dust before waving his arm. "I am, Captain. Good to see you boys." He coughed up some more before standing up with some help and giving a salute.

The Captain grinned before returning the gesture. "Hell of a job you did here, Lieutenant. You saved a lot of lives here but I need to know what we're dealing with here."

Derek nodded his head. "The enemy seems to be primarily ground based with little to no air. They use overwhelming numbers to overrun our positions. I think we took out a lot of those fuckers but they just kept coming."

Capt. Jorgenson nodded. "Armaments?"

"Mostly swords, spears, and shields." Derek shook his head. "I don't know, sir, but their gear appears similar to Romans or shit. You'll have to ask 2L. Wilson here, he seems to know more than the rest of us."

Capt. Jorgenson nodded though he really didn't know what the hell was going on here. The enemy was armed with only swords, spears and shields, and looked quite similar to Ancient Romans if what the Lieutenant was saying was true. And judging from these corpses…he was inclined to believe this was some sick joke or a time portal somehow opened up here, he didn't know.

But what the Captain did know was that they needed to stop this now before any more people get hurt.

"Alright Wilson, what do you have to input here?"

The 2LT snapped a quick salute before giving a sit-rep. "Well sir, I was at the Midtown Comic Square when all hell broke loose. A lot of people were running and screaming out in the streets while scrambling to get away from something. There was such a mass panic that I saw some people getting crushed underfoot if they tripped. I had no idea what the hell was going on until I saw this fucking dragon and a Roman looking motherfucker riding it fly over my head and skewer a dude. Glad I had my side arm with me and got him center mass. After that, I heard that the police was setting up a defensive perimeter further up and decided to help."

Taking a breath and wiping some sweat off of his face, he continued.

"A lot of the ones I killed weren't even fucking human sir. They looked like something straight out of a game or fantasy novel. Pig-like men and ones with large teeth and green skin - orcs and the like. Anyways, after fighting my making my way up to the fight, I met up with the Lieutenant here and we've been holding them off ever since. I noticed a lot of the creatures that the Roman like guys brought with them have the same weak points we do. The eyes and the inside of the mouth for starters." Once he finished, Capt. Jorgenson gave a quick nod to show that he understood.

"All right, we need to push them back. The rest of our boys should be landing soon and we have birds for air support. 1LT Westbrook, 2LT Wilson, are you fit for duty?"

Derek nodded, grabbing his weapon from the ground and loaded a fresh magazine in with Wilson doing the same. "Affirmative, Captain."

Wilson gave his nod of consent as well when he was handed some ammo for his rifle.

"All right, let's fucking go!"

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: MANHATTAN SHORES**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 11:35:29**_

* * *

A few minutes later, most of the Marine force made landfall on the docks. The landing crafts lowered their ramps as APCs, tanks, and Marines began pouring out and racing towards the fronts.

In the air, about two dozen AH-1Z Vipers, UH-60 Black Hawks, and V-22 Ospreys flew past them.

With over two thousand Marines finally making it to the mainland, it was payback time.

It did not take long for the main force to get to the front and reinforced the exhausted NYPD. Now backed up by the full force of Task Force Guardian, they had more than enough muscle to crush the would-be invaders.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: TIMES SQUARE - ENEMY COMMAND POST**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 11, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 12:08:54**_

* * *

Back at Times Square, it was utter chaos for the Imperial troops. The Imperial Legate watched as droves of his men returned with more than half of their numbers gone and those that did come back were shaken up to the point of insanity.

Whatever these savages used on his men, they were capable of using magic that literally shredded his men apart. Their shields and armor were practically useless against this onslaught.

 _"My Lord, we need to return to the gate! We're being slaughtered here!"_ An Imperial officer pleaded with him.

The General snarled at the officer and grabbed him by the neck. _"We are the Imperial Army. We do not flee from an enemy, we crush them! If you don't want to be executed for treason, you will rally your men and push them back!"_ He threw officer out of his now-ruined lavish tent and slammed his hands on the table.

This was wrong…these were only savages. They should not even be a challenge but yet they were killing his men and monsters in droves! What's more, the few men that managed to come back had told them that these savages commanded massive metal beasts that were complete invulnerable to their attacks.

The commander in him told him to withdraw and take whatever spoils they had left back to the capital. But the Imperial in him screamed to keep fighting. If he defeated and subjugated such a powerful and formidable foe, his name would be chanted through generations.

Ultimately…the chance of glory was too tempting for him.

 _"I told you this would happen." He_ looked up and saw Count Formal standing at the entrance of his tent. _"It is not too late to withdraw your army."_

 _"No. As long as a man can hold a spear and shield, we will fight. And we will win."_ He said adamantly. _"We will not surrender to these savages."_

 _"We are not surrendering, we are retreating. Don't you see what's going on out there? These_ savages _as you so call them command beasts that rule the skies and the ground! And their soldiers can use magic that I have never heard before on a scale we have never seen!"_

Before the Imperial Legate could offer a retort, holes were torn from the roof's tent and the table exploded into splinters. This forced the Count and General to drop to the ground for cover.

Up in the skies, three Black Hawks were circling Time Square and raining down machine gun fire on the panicking enemies. "Command, this is Serpent 6-6! We have eyes on civilian prisoners! Repeat, they have captured civilians!"

"Serpent, this is Command. We cannot, I say again, CANNOT let them escape with those prisoners! Do what you can to stop them. Ground forces are less than three mikes out. How copy. Over."

"Roger that, Command. They're not going anywhere. I guarantee it." The pilot said as the birds continued to circle around and covering the clearly injured but cheering American civilians.

Less than three minutes later, the Marines had reached Times Square leaving thousands of mangles corpses in their wake and completely surrounded the utterly decimated enemy. American air power circled the skies to provide cover should they need it.

The Imperial Legate had finally come to his senses only to find that his almost his entire force was completely decimated. Only a few were left standing but they were on their knees begging for mercy.

Cowards; no shred of Imperial pride!

Yet…with his army all but destroyed and no way out…his common sense finally won out. Beside him, Count Colt was trying to shake off what had happened earlier and saw that most of their men were either dead or dying, and they were surrounded by men and metal monstrosities.

He couldn't help but be to be awed by the sight.

He stood up proudly as the enemy soldiers approached them. It pained his pride to do this but if he wanted to live, he must. _"I am Imperial Legate Tertius Sennius Siricus of the Saderan Army! I demand that you show me to your-"_ He didn't get far when his face met the buttstock of an M27 rifle.

"On the fucking ground, motherfucker! Don't even think about moving!" A Marine shouted as his brothers-in-arms subdued all the surrendering enemy forces and tended to the wounded civilian prisoners.

Count Formal felt himself being forcefully pushed to the ground and his arm forced painfully to his back. "Don't move or it'll be the last thing you do." He didn't know what this soldier was saying but he didn't resist.

For the first time, the Imperial Army was defeated and was now at the mercy of those that they wronged.

"Command, Red Rider 4 Actual. All enemy personnel neutralized. Area is secure." He looked down at the body of a little girl who had one her legs chopped off…still holding her teddy bear in her arms as her eyes were widened in horror. "Get these people some help…please. Some are already beyond help, but I want to make their passing as painless as possible. They've suffered enough today and for the rest of their lives, short as some might soon be."

"Roger that, Red Rider. Emergency personnel are on their way. Help them however you can. Command, out."

Capt. Jorgenson sighed before kneeling down at the dead child and closed her still open eyes. "I'm sorry, kid."

Derek was there too but he and the other Marines were busy staring at what had been done to them. The bodies of hundreds of civilians were piled up at the center of the Square. Some of them even looked half eaten. That did not even account for the even more unfortunate souls that had quite possibly been captured and sent across the other side of the gate as god knows what.

With what these fuckers did freshly engrave into their minds, the Marines had only one thing in mind.

 **Revenge.**

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **Hope this is a better start than the last story.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chi nite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Yeah, I know it's been what, 2 months after the first chapter but me and my beta were working on it to be an extremely good next chapter. The only delay was because of the hurricane that happened and my beta, Cloud Link Zero, had to look out for himself. I don't blame him as his life is far more important than this. That said, I'd like to thank him for being my beta – he might as well be a co-author at this point – and to all you readers out there. Hope you enjoy.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter II – Consequence**_

* * *

 _"I have never advocated war except as a means of peace." - Gen. Ulysses S. Grant_

* * *

In the White House Presidential Emergency Operations Center, President Charles D. Jameson together with the National Security Council and General Jerald T. Drummond were watching live feeds from their satellites, drones and whatever news reports from those that were brave or stupid enough to still be in the chaos.

After General Drummond had informed him of the surprise attack on Manhattan, President Jameson had summoned the National Security Council to the Situation Room – although due to such short notice, some of the members could only attend by live video feed –only to find out just what the fuck was going on there. Their words could be summed up as this: 'How did a hostile force get into their shores without them noticing again?!'

The Director of National Intelligence and the video link of the Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, Terrence J. Cooper and Samantha E. Kerstin respectively, had no answers to this question for they was just as stumped as the rest of the Council. From their departments, there were no breaches in security and their surveillance satellites did not pick up any kind of hostile force entering US territory.

Besides this isolated bombshell the entire world, especially Europe, was still rebuilding from the devastation of the Third World War and no one wanted to start another war – not after just seventeen years.

It was not until General Drummond, the current Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, established a link to the USS America and got a video transmission from their troops on the ground and the news channels.

What the NSC saw with the exception of General Drummond, were left dumbfounded and in shock. The General could not blame the member of the NSC when they shook their heads and/or pinched themselves for he did not believe it when he first saw the reports.

The shock did not last long though as President Jameson immediately called for all available units that could reach New York as soon as possible to mobilize and defeat the aggressors.

With the orders given and their forces mobilizing, all they had to do now was coordinate and watch as troops fought against the most unusual enemy to invade their soil. While the rest of the NSC were scrambling to process real time information coming their way and give the appropriate commands, President Jameson was seething in anger.

Seventeen years; that is how long his country had been healing itself. Seventeen years to undo the damage and destruction that had been brought to their shores. Seventeen years to let the world know even a semblance of peace. The moment everyone finally let their guard down this happened but that was not what he was angry about.

From their satellites to the news, it all showed one thing. The enemy was killing his countrymen and it was not a quick death like one would expect from a bullet. They were butchering men, women, and children in the streets.

He even saw a mother and a child being grabbed by this giant creature thing and were eaten. The child was first to be eaten as the mother watched helplessly, crying for her child before being eaten herself and whatever what was left of their corpses were discarded like trash. It was not just this though as numerous atrocities were being committed on the civilians by these…monsters.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, General Drummond had received word that the battle was over and most of the enemy force was destroyed and the rest surrendered. All of the Security Council breathed a sigh of relief that the crisis was over with but the President wanted – no, needed to know what the losses were.

"General, I want a straight answer." President Jameson dreaded the answer to this question but it must be done. "How many…how many lives were lost in the attack?"

The General hesitated for a moment before he sighed. "We don't have the exact numbers but if I had to hazard a guess…the attack happened at around 10:00 hours, sir. It was well within rush hour." President Jameson closed his eyes and rested his head in his hands. "I estimate three to four thousand lives were lost, possibly more. Worse still, one of our choppers reported that they had captured numerous civilians. I don't know how many but it's a high possibility that they had captured a number of our people."

The Council was saddened and horrified by the General's estimation. Not less than two hours since the attack began; three to four thousand American lives were lost and that number might go up once the casualty count was in. This was one of the worst loss of life in peacetime in US history since the 9/11 attacks but worse still was the possibility of American citizens being captured by those animals.

All of them remembered their history lessons from way back in their high school years and if these guys were even remotely the same as the Ancient Romans then they know the sick shit that went on back then. If that was the case and they had indeed captured American civilians then they were in extreme danger.

They needed to get them out and they needed to do it NOW!

Even though every fiber of his being was screaming at him to send the Marines to find and rescue their people, President Jameson knew that it was not the smart thing to do. They literally had no idea where the hell these attackers came from and knew next to nothing about them. The only lead they had was this strange structure in the middle of Time Square that their Marines were aiming their weapons at.

There was no guarantee that passage through it goes both way for their troops and even if it was, there was a very high chance that an even larger enemy force was waiting for them to come through. It was a risk that President Jameson was not willing to take and it could cost more lives if it was true.

So with a heavy heart, he had to hold off any offensive action for now. At least until they knew what they were getting into. "Well…what about our troops? Were there any casualties?" He prayed that none of their boys had perished as so many lives were lost already.

Thankfully, the General shook his head. "None, sir. Aside from a few dozen Marines being injured, there were no fatalities for our forces. Some vehicles and aircrafts were damaged though but they were not destroyed in the engagements."

"What about the wounded civilians?"

"Emergency medical personnel are on the way but from what our medics are saying…most of them have suffered extreme injuries, sir. I don't think most will make it even with the triage going on in the field hospitals set up along with the now overcrowded real hospitals. There is also untold psychological damage that we frankly don't believe any amount of therapy could fix either."

The President breathed in deeply before releasing it with an audible sigh. He had never expected this to happen. Hell, no one could have ever expected any of this to happen! Ancient Romans and creatures that should only be found in fantasy? This kind of things only happens in some kind of twisted story!

President Jameson only wanted to have a quiet term to serve and lead his country. He had hoped that nothing serious would happen so the United States and the world could enjoy a few decades of peace and rebuild all that was destroyed. Now this happens and it threw that hope out the window.

He could already imagine the reactions this would cause to the world and to his nation. Once the American people hear of this…they would want retribution.

"General, is that how they got in?" The President pointed to the strange structure as the monitors zoomed in on it. "As I recall, that thing wasn't there when I last visited New York and if it was it wouldn't be built in the middle of a busy intersection."

"Inconclusive at best sir, but there is no other explanation." General Drummond let out a weary sigh. "I know it may seem hard to believe and if I had to guess, I'd say it was magic which should be impossible but…we've all seen it with our own eyes and our soldiers fought them off our shores. Creatures right out of fiction and humans that look and act like Ancient Romans. This is something that no one could've foreseen even in their wildest imagination."

It was true and the Council had no choice but to accept it. No one could have prepared for something like this. Technically speaking, this should not be happening at all but here it was. They saw the action with their own eyes and their armed forces fought tooth and nail to kick them out. They could do nothing to refute such overwhelming evidence but like the General said, it was hard to believe.

"Recommendations?" President Jameson asked, shaking off his apparent disbelief. He already had an idea of what was to be done but he needed expert advice on the matter. The Council looked at each other and discussed what should be the appropriate course of action.

"Mr. President, as you know we were attacked." The video link of the Secretary of Defense, Chester E. Tenner, began. "Even though our forces managed to repel them easily, they somehow breached our defense network and early warning systems just like that. Then they caused heavy damage to property and loss of life. They just appeared out of nowhere and we have no way of knowing until it's too late. I recommend we raise all forces in the continental United States to DEFCON 2 while our forces overseas to DEFCON 3. At the moment, it's the only thing we can do."

The rest of the Council wholeheartedly agreed with the Secretary of Defense. With how easily they were able to bypass their defense grid, another enemy force could just pop up at another city and this whole thing could start all over again. Even if there was a slim chance of that happening, the Council could not risk another incident like this.

With the decision unanimous, President Jameson nodded his consent. "Agreed; General Drummond, you have mine and Secretary Tenner's authorization. All US forces at home are to be raised to DEFCON 2 and our forces overseas to DEFCON 3 in anticipation for another possible attack. Let's just hope that it doesn't happen."

The General gave a resolute nod. "Yes, Mr. President."

With the order given and feeling that they could do no more, the President scowled and stood up from his chair.

"Gentlemen, this was an unprovoked attack on our country. They killed many of our citizens and possibly captured more, and razed half of Manhattan to the ground. This is an act of war."

The Council had no rebuttal. It does not matter how small an attack is, an unprovoked attack on sovereign soil was tantamount to an act of war. Like with Pearl Harbor when the Japanese surprised them and destroyed their Pacific Fleet, it was happening again.

"Once things calm down, I will release my formal statement and call for congress for us to go to war and apprehend those responsible and get out people back." President Jameson turned to Directors Cooper and Kerstin. "Directors, you have full authority on how you deal with the prisoners. They have the answers to the questions we have and by God, we will get them."

"Understood, Mr. President."

"Good, in the meantime, I think we're done here." The President sighed. "This meeting is adjourned; you all know what you have to do."

One by one, the members of the National Security Council filed out of the Situation Room. General Drummond to a secure communications terminal to order the Armed Forces to DEFCON 2. Directors Cooper and Kerstin to make preparations for the prisoners and their interrogation.

Eventually, only the President remained in the Situation Room with his thoughts. First the Russians, now this? A man could go mad just thinking about it.

"Oh God…what am I going to tell the country?" Or worse yet, what was he going to tell the whole world?

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: CNN NEWS STATION**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 12, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 16:19:21**_

 _ **36 HOURS AFTER THE MANHATTAN INCIDENT**_

* * *

 **New York ATTACKED! America STUNNED!**

"Good evening, this is Debra J. Harrington of CNN News. The entire nation is in left in a state of utter shock as Manhattan is put into lock down by Marine, and Naval forces of the US Naval Task Force Guardian. Just over a day ago, we have learned that Manhattan had been the site of yet another attempted invasion of an unknown hostile force resulting in the deaths of thousand innocent lives and destruction. We go now live to Manhattan where our field reporter, Ralph L. Rosenberg, is covering the incident. Ralph, you there?"

The screen then showed a video link to the skies over Manhattan in a news helicopter.

"Thank you, Debra. We're reporting live in a helicopter and circling the around the Southern half of Manhattan. This is as far as we can get close because the airspace around Times Square for a whole ten block radius is restricted by the military. As you can see there is nothing but destruction. Buildings in ruins, cars on fires; Debra, you'd think it was the Russian's again. Right now, the Navy has locked down the entire island with Task Force Guardian and elements of the US Fourth Fleet. I can tell you right now, Debra, that the fighting is over and the invaders subdued but the according to them, the area is still not safe. Marine and Army units, as well as emergency personnel, are now focusing their attention in search and rescue operations for any survivors in the danger zone."

"Ralph, is there any word on the survivors? How are they doing?"

Ralph sighed. "Debra, most of them were in pretty bad shape when they were being treated. Gruesome details that, for the sake of our viewers, I will not be going into detail but all I can say is…if the videos we saw in the internet were real…these people suffered through hell."

"Thank you, Ralph." The video feed of Manhattan was cut and the scene went back to the news station. "In regards to this surprise attack, the Military has gone on high alert with all forces in the continental United States reported to be mobilizing in anticipation for another possible attack. We go now live to the White House where the President is about to make an official statement. Reporting in from Washington DC, Shana C. Miller. Shana?"

The screen then showed a video link in the White House's James S. Brady Press Briefing Room where dozens of reporters were all reporting to their respective news channels.

"Thank you, Debra. We are now live in the White House Briefing Room for the President's official statement for this surprise attack. White House officials have been particularly tight lipped about this issue and we can only hope the President Jameson has the – there he is! The President of the United States has now made his appearance. He is accompanied by Army General Jerald T. Drummond, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and is making his way onto the podium."

The camera swerved to President Jameson as he stood before the podium and their cameras and in essence, the very eyes of the American public who wanted answers for this.

The President took a deep breath and released it before looking back up. "Thank you for coming here today, everybody." He said before he motioned for the reporters to sit down and they did. "My fellow Americans, I know that you have many questions regarding what happened at New York. I asked questions among similar lines as well but I can tell you right now…that the United States of America was attacked." He paused for a moment to let it sink in before continuing. "I know that videos have been circulating in the internet, showing graphic footage of unbelievable creatures and men dressed as Ancient Romans killing Americans in gruesome fashion. All I can say to you is that those videos are indeed…true."

Once the word left his mouth, the reporters raised their hands, trying to get his attention and spouted massive amounts of questions. President Jameson could see the utter disbelief in their eyes and he could only imagine what the nation…the world was thinking.

Most times, these kinds of videos were just hoaxes; made for simple entertainment of to incite a scare from somebody but to hear that it was certainly true from the very head of the United States government was a big bomb.

It took a while but the crowd was eventually silenced. "Yes, you heard it correctly; those things you saw were all authentic. This has been confirmed by the Director of National Intelligence, Mr. Cooper, General Drummond, as well as our brave troops who fought them in Manhattan. We have captured prisoners and they have been detained and are currently on their way to a secure location. I'll take your questions."

"Sir, what can you tell us about the state of the prisoners?"

President Jameson sighed. "Currently, that is classified information but I can tell you that we will find out what they wanted to accomplish in attacking us." The reporter nodded as the President motioned for another reporter.

"What are the casualties, sir?"

It was the question Jameson dreaded to answer but he knew he had to. Taking a deep breath, he bowed him head. "Unfortunately, the attacked occurred when it was rush hour. As of right now, the number of dead is over four thousand and injured is about ten thousand. We also have reason to that they have captured a number of American civilians."

As expected, the crowd of reporters grew even wilder and Jameson could only imagine what the Americans at home were thinking. If he could see them, they were all in outrage.

When the reporters did not seem to calm down, the President picked one to speak so there could be order. That was when the next reporter asked the million dollar question as it were. "Mr. President, how did they get into the United States and is it possible that another attack may occur?"

"We aren't entirely sure but early reports from the officers on the scene reported that some kind of strange structure just appeared out of thin air in Times Square. I know this is something that's completely impossible but we have concrete evidence that we can't refute. As they have a method of travel we have no way of predicting, it is possible that they could attack another major city. Due to this, I have ordered – effective immediately – that all US Armed Forces in the Continental United States are to assume defense level DEFCON 2 while our forces overseas have defense levels raised to DEFCON 3. If another attack occurs, we will be ready…though I and everybody else in this fine nation of ours just hopes it doesn't happen again."

The whole room gasped when the President announced that the whole Armed Forces were being called into action in anticipation of another surprise attack but before they could ask more questions, the President already called Shana Miller for her question.

Shana Miller stood and straightened up. "Sir…is this the start of another war for the United States?" That got everyone's attention and they all turned to the President for the answer.

President Jameson knew that this was another question that had to be answered. If he knew his country is that the United States of America does not take any attack on her people and soil lying down. There's a very good chance that the entire population wanted payback.

"Under national and international law, these men and monsters attacked us and killed many of our people with no official declaration of war. Like the Japanese did when they attacked Pearl Harbor, this is tantamount to declaring war on the United States and with the possible abduction of civilians; it leaves me with no other choice." President Jameson lowered his head for a second before raising it up with a resolute expression. "Under Section 2, Article 3 of the US Constitution, I hereby call an emergency session of Congress in five days to declare a state of war against this new threat. Thank you." With that, the President stepped away from the podium, being escorted by the General and Secret Service agents as the reporters tried to get more questions in.

"There you have it, Debra. Coming from the President of the United States himself, he confirmed the authenticity of the videos, audio recordings and images about the Manhattan attack. I…I can't believe it myself…" Shana shook her head in disbelief before turning back to the camera. "Ladies and gentlemen, the President has all but declared that the United States is once again at war on an enemy no one could have expected but with the brutal killing of thousands of Americans and the possible abduction of an unknown number of civilians, this is a choice that all Americans will support. Debra?"

The screen switched to the CNN news channel.

"Thank you, Shana. With the whole of the United States Armed Forces called into action to defend against an enemy we have never faced until now, the confirmation of said enemy that we thought were mere fiction by the President, and the Unites States on the brink of another war, one has to ask…just what the hell is happening and how is the world dealing with this new astounding and frightening development."

Oh, it the world reacted all right. What happened in Manhattan as soon as the news broke out scared the others nations. If an enemy had the means to just pop up out of nowhere, their leaders instantly followed the United States' lead and mobilized their own armies to defend against such a threat.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: WASHINGTON, D.C.**_

 _ **DATE: AUGUST 14, 2016**_

 _ **TIME: 18:33:41**_

* * *

"Goliath, Goliath, this is Stalker 2-1. Standby for report 1-3, over." Frost heard the radio chatter through the comms as he tried to get some rest in the safety of the trenches...for whatever that was worth.

He could hear and feel the impact of the enemy ordnance pounding at their positions. He could hear the moans of pain from the wounded...the screams of the dying...the gunfire...the crashing of birds...the explosions of tanks...everything...as they tried to defend their nation's capital.

Washington, D.C.

"Stalker 2-1, this is Goliath. Send traffic, over."

"Line Whiskey: 40 personnel. Line X-Ray: 3 columns of mechanized infantry. /Break/. Line Yankee: 20 Bravo Tango Romeos 525639. Line Zulu: Russian paratroopers. /Break/. Line Alpha: 1915 Zulu. Line Echo: AK-47s and RPGs. How copy so far, over."

"Yeah, say again Line Yankee, over."

"Roger, I say again Line Yankee. Line Yankee: 20 Bravo Tango Romeos 525639. How copy?"

"Solid copy. Do you have any other remarks, over?"

Frost tried to ignore the radio chatter to get some fucking semblance of peace in this goddamn war. He was Delta Force, one of America's most elite soldiers; they underwent on one of the most demanding trainings in the world...but even they had limits.

How long has this war been going on? Days? Weeks? Months? Hell, it might even be years for all he fucking knew. When you're fighting for your life, time is...relative or some shit like that.

But...a soldier's duty is never done.

"Saddle up, man. We got shit to do." Frost looked up and saw his teammate, Truck, tossed him his HK 416 which he caught.

"What's the news, Truck?" Frost asked as he checked his weapon if it was combat ready - it was. He mentally sighed, not getting that much rest from all the fighting topside, but this was war.

You either fight or die.

Before Truck could say anything, their team leader, Sandman, came in. "All right, gentlemen, the evac site has takin' a pounding and we need to buy some time to get the civvies out."

"What's the deal, boss?" Grinch asked. He was ready and able to bring the hurt to the Russians.

"The Russians are dug in around key buildings around the evac site. Our job's to find and neutralize them." Sandman said then got Grinch to grin like...well...the Grinch.

"Heh, I like it." The three ignored him though.

"The Rangers are gonna push towards the Smithsonian and take out Russians there. We'll make out way to the Holocaust Memorial and do the same thing. Got it?" The rest of the team nodded in understanding. "Then let's get it done."

* * *

 **"3-1, this is 3-3! BTR 60 at your 2 o'clock!"**

 **"Roger! Engaging with LAW rocket!"**

 **"Hunter 2-1, this is 2-2. We have engaged the enemy at Logan Circle Park!"**

 **"2-1, 2-3! 2-2 is down! I repeat: 2-2 is down!"**

 **"3-3, this is 3-1! Interrogative: Where is the air support?! Over!"**

 **"1-3, 1-2! Be advised: Our Mk 19 is down! I repeat: Our Mk 19 is down! Over!"**

* * *

"Overlord, we've managed to neutralize the enemy nest. But I'm seeing T-90s and BTRs coming in from the road south of us in grid: Papa Sierra 314778. How copy, over." Sandman reported as the team and some guys with them began reloading their weapons and resupplying their equipment.

"Solid copy, standby. Metal 0-1, confirmed. Russian armor rolling in from the south road. Any chance you can thin 'em out? Over."

"Metal 0-1 copies, Overlord. We'll do what we can. Interrogative: can we call in fire support?" Sandman didn't know how many they could take out with only some RPGs and Javelins. He just hoped to God there were still some birds in the air left or an artillery pieces still operational.

"Standby... Metal 0-1, we've patched you to Rattler 2-1: flight of two A-10s pushing South West to the Potomac. They are ready for your targets, over."

"Better than nothing, Overlord. Rattler 2-1, Rattler 2-1, this is Metal 0-1, do you read me?" Sandman had ordered his men to take as much ordnance they could while the others make sure that the Russians could not surprise them.

They made their way to the South side of the building and set up their defense.

"Metal 0-1, Rattler 2-1, standing by for targets." The lead pilot of the Thunderbolts said.

"Roger that, Rattler. Standby for Nine Line. How copy, over."

"Metal 0-1, Rattler 2-1, solid copy. Standing by."

Grinch and Truck manned a Javelin and picked their targets while Frost manned the laser designator for the strike. "Ok, they're closing in. I'd say about 400 meters." Truck said.

"Nine Line follows: IP Mustang. Heading: 285 degrees South - South East. Distance: 400 meters. Target elevation: 160 MSL. Substantial enemy armor and infantry moving up the road parallel the Holocaust Memorial. Map grid: Papa Sierra 314798. Marked with laser. Danger close. Egress North East. End Nine Line, over."

"IP inbound."

"Boss, they're getting closer." Grinch said, getting a little twitchy with the button. "Three hundred meters and closing fast."

"I know. Frost, laze the column for air strike." Sandman ordered and Frost was more than happy to comply. "Targets lazed. Call contact, over."

"Contact received. Rattler 2-1 is inbound."

Sandman turned to his team. "All right, boys. Give it to 'em!"

"Finally!" Grinch grunted as he, Frost, and truck let loose of their missiles and destroyed their targets. Immediately after, the Thunderbolts came in and rained hell on the column, destroying most of it in epic fashion.

"Rattler 2-1, egressing North East. Awaiting on BDA, over."

"Rattler 2-1, BDA follows: 80 over 100. Five T-90s destroyed, three BTRs totaled, and sixteen-plus KIAs. Thanks for the help, Rattler." Sandman relayed as Frost shot scrambling Russian troopers with the sniper rifle he had acquired and Grinch and Truck took out as many vehicles as the ordnance can allow. "Metal 0-1 out."

"Roger that, Metal 0-1, have a nice day. Out." The two A-10s then hauled ass out of the map grip for further tasking from other units...provided that they didn't get shot down. "Shit, SAM lock. We're being painted! Evasive maneuvers now!"

Team Metal watched as four missiles launched into the air from the South West and soared up to the fleeing birds.

"Deploying countermeasures!" The two A-10s let out a shower of flares to mask their own heat signature, but it was too late. The missiles slammed into the birds...there were no chutes deployed.

They were gone.

Grinch cursed at having to watch one of their own get wasted again. Frost shuddered; gritting his teeth as another two of their brothers were killed. Truck shook his head in sorrow.

"Overlord, Metal 0-1. Rattler 2-1 is down. I say again: Rattler 2-1 is down. We have PID on a SAM site on top of the Mandarin Oriental to the South. Request strike, over."

"Overlord copies all. Metal 0-1, support assets are unavailable at this time. Can you neutralize the site from your position? Over."

"Negative. We're out of heavy ordnance."

"Roger. Metal 0-1, you're to move to the Mandarin and neutralize that SAM site. You'll be assisted by four teams for this. Once it's done, we'll send in a bird for exfil. How copy? Over."

Sandman nodded on his end. "Solid copy on all. We'll get it done. Out. All right, guys, let's go!"

* * *

 **"Wolverine 1-2, this is Wolverine 2 Actual. Give me a SITREP: How far away are you from 2-3's position? Over."**

 **"2 Actual, 1-2! We're dug in by the Capitol Building and we're taking heavy fire from the East! 2-3 is about 600 meters to the south of us! Over!"**

 **"1-2, can you link up with 2-3 from where you are? Over."**

 **"Negative! Negative! Gray! Get the 240 guns over to the right flank! Move! Move! They're rolling us with a couple platoons of T-80s! Request Broken Arrow! Repeat: Broken Arrow!"**

 **"Roger that. Solid copy on Broken Arrow. Major, it's been an honor. Out."**

* * *

"Frost, Truck, set C4 on the launchers." Sandman ordered and the two went to work rigging the SAM launchers after they cleared all the Russians from the building. Unfortunately, they were all that was left of the teams sent here but Metal will make damn sure that their sacrifice was would not be in vain.

"Boss, I got eyes on a couple dozen tangos heading this way." Grinch said with his eyes on his scope. "I'd say 2-4 minutes at the most."

Sandman looked over to the edge and just as Grinch said, Russians were coming in and there were a lot of them. He knew they couldn't fight these odds as they were the only ones left.

"Thin 'em out. I'll see if I can set up some claymores to slow 'em down." Sandman said and didn't wait for a reply and went to work setting up the mines.

Grin just smirked. "With pleasure." He said as he laid down sniper fire on the advancing hostiles.

After a about a minute, Truck and Frost were done rigging the launchers and Sandman was done setting up what mines they had left. "Charges are in place. Clear the blast radius." Truck said.

"Burn the son of a bitch!" Frost pushed the button and the launchers were nothing more than slag.

"Overlord, this is Metal 0-1. Site has been destroyed. Where the hell is our exfil?!"

Grinch fired off three more shots. "Boss, Russians are entering the building! I don't know how much longer we can hold out here!"

"Shit! All right, Frost, Truck cover the entrance and shoot anything that moves!"

"Got it. Let's go, Truck." Frost nodded his head to the door and the two set up their firing positions.

"Metal 0-1, Overlord. A Black Hawk is inbound, just hold on."

"Solid copy, Overlord. Tell them to haul ass, Russians have breached the building. Over."

BOOM!

"CONTACT!" Truck shouted as he and Frost laid down suppressing fire. "Right side, man! Right side!"

"Grinch, give them a hand!" Sandman ordered.

"Rog'!" Grinch took up position beside his two comrades and began laying down supporting fire.

Just then, a Black Hawk flew overhead and hovered over the hotel. "Metal 0-1, Vulture 4-2. Heard you guys need a ride outta here."

"Roger that, Vulture! Be advised: The LZ's hot! Be ready to dust off as soon as we're on board!"

"Solid copy."

Sandman fired a burst of hot lead at the slowly advancing Russians. "Okay, I'm gonna throw down a flash bang. Frost, you and Grinch throw a couple of grenades at them, then we run like hell to the bird."

"Got it!"

Sandman pulled the pin on the flash bang as Frost and Grinch did the same with their grenades as Truck continued covering. "Now!" The three threw their ordnance and hauled ass to the bird. They weren't waiting around to see if it worked or not.

"Frost, Grinch! Get on those miniguns and start sprayin'!" Truck said as they climbed onto the bird.

"Gotcha, man!" Grinch manned the starboard gun while Frost handled the port gun.

"We're in! We're in! Take us up!" Sandman shouted to the pilots and they gave the thumbs up.

"Hold on to your pants, boys, this is gonna be a bumpy ride."

"Shit! Russians on the roof!" Truck aimed his weapon to the enemy as they started peppering the heli with small arms fire. "RPG! RPG! Frost, take 'em out!"

The masked operator didn't need to be told twice as he pushed the button and the gun began spinning. It was as if time had time had slowed down with the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Bead of sweat soaked his mask as he saw a Russian shoulder his RPG. Panic and fear welled within him. Could not this damn thing work any faster?!

Just like thunder from the skies, bullets began flying towards the Russians faster than the speed of sound; tearing them all up into meaty shreds. Frost breathed a sigh of relief as the bird began pulling out.

* * *

 **"Viper Actual, this is 3-Bravo-Echo-4-Sierra! 3-Bravo Actual is KIA! Repeat 3-Bravo Actual is KIA! /Break/! We are down to three men! I repeat: We are down to THREE men! How copy, over?!"**

 **"Solid copy, 3 Bravo. Be advised: I have Warhammer standing by. Switch to TAC Freq. 179 and go to town. Over."**

 **"Roger that, switching to 179. Out."**

 **"Warpig 2! This is Warpig 2-1! I have visual on enemy armor closing 12 clicks due North of the Washington Monument! Supported by infantry, APCs and attack helos! How copy? Over!"**

 **"Contact left! Contact LEFT!"**

 **"Taking fire! 11 o'clock! Four Hundred meters!"**

 **"2-1 Alpha, 2-2 Alpha! One of Warpig-2 Victors just took a hit! I repeat: One of Warpig 2's Victors has been hit!"**

 **"Warpig 2, this is Wolverine 2! What's your status over?!"**

 **"Wolverine 2, this is Warpig 2-1! We are taking heavy fire along the Potomac! /Break/! 2-2 Echo's Victor is gone. They took a direct hit from a hi-"**

 **"Ambush! Left side! Left side!"**

 **"Contact left! Contact left!"**

 **"2-3! RPG at your 3 o'clock!"**

 **"Take the MK 19 and cover that sector! COVER THAT SECTOR!"**

* * *

"Overlord, Metal 0-1. We're in the air. Is the evacuation complete yet?" Sandman asked as the heli broke right out of the range of Russian small arms fire and flew to the Washington Monument evac site.

"Negative, 0-1. The evac site is still taking fire from the World War 2 Memorial to the West. Dagger's heli's are en route to neutralize them, but we need you to take head to the Capitol Building and assist the units there."

"Roger, Overlord! We'll do what we can! Out" Sandman got up to the pilots. "Take us to the Capitol Building!"

The pilot nodded. "Solid copy. Rerouting."

"Vulture 4-1, this is Grizzly 2-2. Keep low. Russians have SAM launchers all over this goddamn area." A team on the ground reported in.

"Roger, thanks for the heads u-" Just then, the alarms started going off. It was a fucking missile lock! "SAM lock! Breaking left!" The Black Hawk broke left as Team Metal held on for dear life.

"Fuck! Missiles incoming! Hold on!" The pilot tried to maneuver out of the missiles' way. They managed to avoid most of it, but that was just it…most of it. One got lucky and nailed them but the bird managed to still be airborne. "We're hit! We're hit!"

"Fuck! I hate SAMs!" Grinch roared in a rage.

"Overlord, we got hit but still in the air! We got another SAM battery over at the American Indian Museum! We're takin' 'em out!"

"She's not gonna hold it much longer!" The pilots screamed as they tried to keep their bird steady.

"If we're going out, then we're taking them with us to hell! Take us up!" Sandman ordered. If this is how he and his team we're going out, then he'll take every single Russian with him to hell.

With great difficulty, the pilots pulled their heli up to roof level. "Fire at will!"

"Overlord to all units. Evacuation Order April. I repeat: Evacuation Order April! Everyone get the hell outta there!"

Team Metal ignored Overlord's order to withdraw and sprayed the entire rook with hot lead. Grinch and Frost fired furiously on the SAM launchers as Truck and Sandman took out as many Russians they could get. They managed to kill a good chunk of them, but…

"Engine failure! We're going down!" The heli began spinning out of the sky. "Overlord, this is Vulture 4-2! We are going down! We are going down at grid square: Lima Bravo –"

* * *

 **"This is Delta 4-1 at the Lincoln Memorial! We are taking heavy fire! Request artillery and air strike on our position! Send whatever ya' got! BROKEN ARROW! BROKEN ARROW!"**

 **"Gator 2-6, Gator 2-5! Be advised: We are pulling out of DC! BCT-4 takin' 90% losses! Our position is untenable! We are outta here! I repeat: We're getting the fuck outta dodge!"**

 **"All Goliath victors, fall back from the MSR! Delta 4-1's calling in a BROKEN ARROW! Fall back from the MSR now! WE ARE LEAVING!"**

 **"Mystic 2-1, Central just gave the order to abandon all the evac sites that are east of the Potomac. GET YOUR ASS OUTTA THERE!"**

 **"Darkstar 1-3! We do not have enough shells remaining in that battery to provide effective supporting fire to your position! We are pulling out of DC in 5 mikes! Out!"**

 **"Rhino 2-1, get your team outta there, pronto! We cannot hold this position any longer! We are leaving DC! I repeat: WE ARE LEAVING DC!"**

* * *

A pair of brown eyes fluttered open but the man they belonged to did not move an inch. A few blinks later, vision was restored and the man could see that he was staring at the moving images of buildings and greenery. He turned to his head and he could see that he was sitting in a bus and he sighed in relief, remembering why he was here.

He was not back in the one of the wars that haunted him; he was coming to see his family…after so long of not being able to see each other. It was his fault actually; everything that happened to him in the Military changed him, scarred him, so he did not have the heart to be with his family, at least in person.

Anyway, getting here was not easy. With the entire Armed Forces at DEFCON 2, he should be with his unit and patrolling the entire country for any more signs of those bastards but he got lucky. When he came to be debriefed, he was slightly surprised to see that it was the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff himself to debrief him but he did not lose his composure.

After completing the debriefing, Derek expected to be ordered back into duty – which was something he was ready for – but the General said that his leave of absence was extended courtesy of himself and the President for Derek's service at New York.

He was about to protest the extended leave until he remembered his family and decided to accept it.

Derek dug into his pocket and pulled out a worn our picture of him, his folks, his sister and nephew, and a small smile formed on his face. It had been so long since this photo was taken…twenty years…maybe even more. They were celebrating New Years and Derek was on leave from his duties from the Green Berets. He was a Sergeant then.

Those were the good old days…

When the bus stopped at the bus stop in W Bowles Avenue, Derek pocketed his picture and stepped out of it and walked the short distance to his parent's house in S Laurel Place. He did have a place in North Carolina but he felt more comfortable in the company of his family.

The Delta Operative could see kids playing in the streets, cars going to and from, families just being families…the calm peaceful lives of being civilians. It has been so long since Derek has been a civilian himself and after dedicating himself to the Military, he had forgotten all about it.

Well, now he felt that it was time to fix that after…after the shit that went down in Manhattan. It was just…so unbelievable. Sure, he had killed about a hundred of those fuckers but when the fighting was over, he had a chance to think it through and Derek could not just believe it after fighting it.

The absolute carnage and brutality was nothing new as he had seen fellow soldiers getting blown to pieces and he himself had done some horrible things as well but…the things he saw and killed were supposed to be impossible but that did not matter now.

Those fuckers had attacked the United States and killed many of his countrymen and possibly captured more and now that the President has all but declared a state of war. Derek was ready and willing to once again throw himself into the flames.

If he was going back into the thing he wanted to do most, Derek had to see his family again. He just had this gut feeling that he may never get to do so again in the future.

Coming up to the door that he knew his parents were living; Derek knocked three times on the door and waited. "Coming!" He waited for a few second before the door opened slightly to reveal a woman in her mid-thirties. "Yes, who is-"

"Hey…Pam." Derek said awkwardly before the door flung open and his sister lunged at him with a tight hug.

"Oh my God! Derek, you're home!" His sister cried happily. Pamela Anne Westbrook is Derek's younger sister at the age of thirty five - going thirty six in a couple of months. She was a divorcee after her husband was caught cheating on her and began beating her. Thankfully, Derek had dropped by as a surprise when he caught her husband hitting her. Needless to say, a Delta Force Operative on medical was still a far better fighter than a wife beater. The only thing good that came from the marriage was a son named Simon who was probably in his teens now.

Pamela was a on the short side compared to her brother at about five feet and six inches compared to Derek's six feet and two inches. She was also possessed a slim figure, brown hair, and hazel eyes.

"Pamela, what's going on there?" An aged voice came from behind them as an elderly woman came into view. "Why were you-" The old woman stopped dead in her tracks when she saw who her daughter was hugging. "D-Derek..?"

Derek gave his mother a small smile. "Yeah, it's me, mom." Pamela finally let her brother go and he walked to his mother and gave her a hug which she returned. "It's good to see you."

"Welcome back, son." The old woman, Hannah Jean Westbrook, a woman who was seventy years of age said but before she could say any more, they heard footsteps coming down the back.

"Honey, what's going on down there? I heard screaming."

Derek withdrew from his mother's embrace and turned to the back and saw his father coming towards them whose eyes widened in surprise. Retired Captain James Hugh Westbrook was a decorated US Marine Corps veteran who served with the 3rd Marine Division – the Fighting Third – and fought in Operation Desert Storm and Operation Iraqi Freedom. James was leaning on his cane as he took a bullet to the knee during his last mission that crippled him and because of his old age at seventy two years old.

"Derek…goddammit son, get your ass over here." The Delta Operative did as he was ordered and embraced his father. He maybe old but the man was one spry bastard. "Damn good to see you again, son. It's been so long."

"Yeah, it has, dad."

The two war veterans separated as James gave his son a smile before frowning. "We heard what happened at New York. Didn't you say you were on leave there?"

Derek could see the worry in his old man's eyes as well as his mother and sister. It was standard protocol to not discuss the specifics of a mission to a civilian but technically what happened there was not an operation. It was an attempted invasion by those…things.

"Yeah, I was there." Derek nodded. "I was one of the first to respond and organize the defense. We held out until help arrived."

"You did good, Derek." His old man nodded and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You did what you had to do and you did a hell of a job. We saw the sick shit that went on down there on the news. I know there's no other way to say it but…are you all right?"

It was true. What the Westbrook family saw sickened them to the very pits of their stomachs. At first, they thought it was just a prank, a product of some really good editor to scare someone but then the President himself confirmed them to be real…it was a nightmare. What was more, they remembered Derek was there on leave and hoped to God that he was on the other end of the island.

"I'm fine." Derek said stoically. After all, he had been through two wars. This was nothing new to him.

Hannah looked at her son worriedly. She knew that what Derek had been through would break any other men out there and though he has held strong, everyone had a breaking point. War changes people; it was something that she and her husband knew all too well.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, mom. I'm fine."

The others did not look convinced but they just nodded their heads. "All right. Now, let's get you settled in. You must be tired as all hell." James said.

"Later. Where is Simon anyway?" He asked, looking for his nephew.

"Oh, he's still at school." Pamela said. "You know, he's actually playing for the Columbine football team? You should see him play, Derek, he's a natural." She said with pride before she ushered her brother to the dining room. "He'll be back in a few hours. Now why don't we all get some lunch? I made fried chicken and roast beef."

Derek nodded with a smile as the family went into the dining room to have lunch together for the first time in a long while.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: CLASSIFIED**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 14, 2035**_

 _ **TIME:19:53:43**_

 _ **52 HOURS AFTER THE MANHATTAN INCIDENT**_

* * *

 **SPLASH!**

Count Formal woke up in a jolt as he sputtered and coughed out water. _"W-What..?"_ When his senses eventually cleared, the Count looked around and he could only see blackness surrounding him and nothing more. _"Where…Where am I…?"_ He asked himself a little unnerved at being able to see nothing. He tried to move but he soon found out that his wrists and ankles were locked in place in a chair of some sorts that he was sitting by shackles.

He tried to wiggle himself free in an attempt to get free but he should have known better as these shackles were made of steel. _"Damn…General Siricus! Is anyone there?!"_

 _ **"You're awake. Good."**_

Colt jolted in surprise and looked around frantically. That voice…it was nothing like he had ever heard before. It sounded distorted…metallic…demonic even and given the fact that he was in complete darkness, it made the Count slightly afraid that something was with him here.

 _"W-Who are you?! Show yourself!"_

 _ **"You will answer our questions truthfully. Do you understand?"**_

 _"Step out of the shadows first!"_ Count Formal demanded bravely but his bravery was squashed as he felt pain the likes of which he never felt before. "AAAAAARRRGGHHHH!" His body felt like it was lit on fire and hundreds of needles poking at his flesh continuously. Fortunately for him, after what felt like an eternity, the pain finally stopped and the Count slumped in his chair; his breathing ragged.

 _ **"Do you understand?"**_ It asked in a more forceful manner.

Colt clenched his eyes shut and groaned. _"…Yes."_ He said begrudgingly. Whatever they did to him…whatever horrible magic they cast upon him…he DID NOT want to experience it again.

 _ **"Good. What is your name?"**_

Seeing as he had no way to escape and whoever or whatever this thing is could simply just cast that spell on him and leave him to die a most horrible death, Colt decided to cooperate. _"…Colt."_

 _ **"Give me your full name."**_

 _"Count Colt Fortunato Umbrius Formal, current head of the Formal Clan."_ He said, hoping that his title and position would mean something.

 _ **"Where were you born?"**_

Apparently his title and position meant nothing here. Letting out a sigh, Colt lifted his head slightly. _"Italica, the birthplace of my family."_

Suddenly, lights filled the room and Count Formal was forced to close his eyes due to the intense brightness. When his vision returned, he saw that he was in an empty white room. There was literally nothing else in it and everything was in white; the walls, the floor, the ceiling, the chair, even his clothes were all pure white. He could see no windows or doors within this strange prison and the more he looked around, the more he felt like he was in an infinite void. It was unnerving him.

 _ **"Do you know why you're here?"**_

There was that voice again but the problem was, there was no one else with him. Colt was getting really nervous now. There was no one else here! Whatever that voice belonged to must be some kind of demon, he was sure of it.

 _"B-Before I answer that…I must know…where are you…and who are you?"_

 _ **"I am here, I am there, I am everywhere but you cannot see me. As for who I am…I'm a representative of an angered power."**_

The color in Colt's face drained as he shook in his chair. A representative of an angered power? Was this being an apostle of an angry and vengeful god? If so…he could only imagine the horrors he was about to suffer at the hands of this being.

 _ **"I will repeat my question. Do you know why you're here?"**_

Colt swallowed the lump in his throat as he tried to remember just what great sin he did to deserve this. Of course, as a man as kindhearted as him, there is things he did that he was not proud of but he was pretty sure none of them would amount to this kind of punishment unless…

The Count's eyes widened in shock and fear when he realized just what he did to land him in such a situation – he helped the Empire foolishly invade a very powerful and very advanced civilization.

 _"I-I…I –"_

 _ **"Judging by your reaction, I'd say you finally realized why you're here."**_

 _"…I'm your prisoner…I'm in the country in the other side of the Gate."_ Colt said in grim realization. Out of all the times he secretly cursed the Empire, he would certainly curse them now. Curse the Saderan Empire and everything it stood for, for sending over forty thousand men or seven legions to their almost guaranteed deaths and him to never be able to see his beloved daughter again.

 _ **"So you call that thing 'the Gate', huh? Glad to know."**_

 _"…What about the others? Where are the other prisoners?"_ Colt asked.

 _ **"They're not important. What're important are your answers to my questions. Why did you attack the United States of America?"**_

 _'The United States of America, so that is what this country's name is.'_ Count Colt mused to himself. Judging by its name, it was a collection of many states under one banner. This meant it was most likely an empire as well; an empire that completely dwarfed the Saderan Empire in all aspects.

The Count tried to think of a very good answer to give. For the life of him, Colt could not just say that he had no other choice. Whoever that was talking to him would never accept such a weak answer and would not think twice to double the pain he felt earlier but he had to be quick about it.

When he could think of no other answer, Colt bowed his head in resignation. _"…I…had no other choice."_ He closed his eyes and prepared himself for the torturous spell but none came.

 _ **"Serve, or die. Is that right?"**_

Count Colt opened his eyes and slowly lifted his head in slight amazement. If he was being interrogated by Saderan soldiers, he would have been beaten within a literal inch of his life, and made to watch as his youngest daughter was raped until her mind broke and his city burned to the ground just to get the answer they wanted. He never expected that whoever this is would understand that sort of reasoning.

 _"…Y-Yes, exactly."_ The Count nodded his head. _"The consequence for refusing the call of the Emperor was eternal shame and your titles, riches, and lands would be revoked. In some cases, even death. I did not care what would happen to me but I fear what would happen to my people so I had no other choice but to join."_

 **"I see. I also hope you realize that you still aided in the attack that ruined thousands of innocent lives."**

Colt hung his head in shame. _"…I do…and nothing I will do and say will change that. I know that I will rot in the Underworld for what I have done."_

 _ **"Let's move on. What can you tell me about-"**_

 _"Wait, please, before we continue, I want to know how many of us survived."_

 _ **"Only about five hundred human prisoners were taken prisoner, the rest are all mincemeat. Now what can you tell me about…"**_

Count Formal stopped listening as he was too in shock at what he had heard. Out of over forty thousand men and beast that they had brought with them, only about five hundred were still alive. It all seemed farfetched but…after seeing those flying metal dragons, those massive iron constructs; their strange magic that could tear through their heaviest armor…no wonder they were defeated so easily and brutally.

If he were to guess, these US soldiers numbered only a few thousand; maybe just over two thousand. Those metal behemoths alone could destroy their forces with relative ease, much more if supported by two thousand magic capable soldiers. Considering that this country was a collection of an unknown number of states…Colt could only imagine what else this country's army was capable of and it frightened him.

 _ **"Count Formal, did you hear me?"**_

The Count was shaken from his thoughts as he looked at the wall in front of him seeing as he had no idea where the voice was coming from. _"Um…sorry, I was thinking about something else."_

 _ **"It's all right. I'll repeat my question, what can you tell me about this Empire of yours. Who are the ones leads it, what kind of government, what kind of terrain, how big it is etcetera."**_

It did not take a genius to know that whatever the United States was planning, it was going to retaliate against the Empire with fire and fury the likes of which his world has never seen before. Well, thinking back, Colt and his family did not really owe the Empire anything.

Clan Formal was one of the lower clans in the Empire and was often belittled for their kindheartedness and generous beliefs. Only a few clans and families shared their beliefs but needed to keep a low profile lest they draw too much unwanted attention. Not to mention that Colt's father and mother were executed under false accusations of a jealous Lord and when it was proven wrong, that Lord got away with just a slap on the wrist and the Emperor at that time did not even pay reparations to the injustice. That was only one of the sins the Empire had done on his family and the people.

After seeing the wonders of this new world, Colt knew that if and when the United States of America crush the Empire, it could bring about a new age for the people there. The gods know that they sorely need it but first, he had to make certain that they were only after those who had wronged them and not destroy everything and everyone they come across.

He had seen what this country was capable of and Colt had a very good idea that it was only a small fraction of their capabilities. If that was true then they had the power to crush the Empire in its entirety including everyone in it. The Count knew that the United States would have every right to though. The Saderans did not show them mercy so why should the United States?

 _"Why should I help you? I already know that you would kill me after you got what you need so why should I bother?"_ Oh Count Colt had every intention to rat out the Saderan Empire, he just wanted to know how far this nation was willing to go.

 _ **"I see."**_ The voice said after a moment. _**"Very well, before I tell you my answer, I have a story that I'd like to share with you. Want to hear it?"**_

Count Formal raised a curious brow before slowly nodding.

 _ **"All right. Oh, before I forget, you're probably wondering what's happening to your friends, huh? Well, if you would pay attention in front of you…"**_

He waited for a few second before the entire front section of his cell walls completely turned black. The Count jumped in surprise but it soon turned to amazement as the wall turned light blue and at the center was a blurred out circle with some markings in it.

Colt could not make out what most of those markings were but he could see a bird's head – an eagle by the looks of it – and below it was some kind of shield and engraved within is was a star of some sort. It must be this country's symbol or flag.

Before he could ask, the wall then showed a scene that made him sick. The wall then showed visions of Saderans being tortured in horrendous ways.

One was tied down on a table while two men in black poured water on his face that was covered by a cloth. Another was screaming for mercy and agony as two individuals held him down while another actually tore his fingernail off. Another screaming as his arm was literally cut off by a tool that breathed blue flames. Another was begging for mercy as a man was holding back two ravenous looking dogs until they were let loose and began ripping the soldier apart. There were many more scenes that followed

The Count averted his eyes, not wanting to see any more.

 _ **"Nice sight, isn't it? Your men are getting first class treatment here, you should be grateful that you're still in one piece. But I have a story that I want to share with you. Do you want to hear it?"**_

Count Formal shook as he tried to avoid looking at the barbarous killings of his men before answering. _"…W-What story…?"_

 _ **"Well, it's not exactly a story – more like history. About a century ago, a certain country had the bright idea to launch a surprise attack on us quite like yours did. We lost thousands of good men and women and it nearly crippled us. To our good fortune, however, they made one fatal mistake – they didn't finish the job. Instead of pressing their attack, they ran back to their home thinking that they could get away with it…they were wrong. Even their commander was doubtful of their actions and his words were this: "I fear all we have done is awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve." It took us a while but when the news spread, the American people wanted revenge and when we were ready, we hunted them down. Ocean to ocean, island to island, jungle to jungle, city to city; until only their home island is all that was left and do you know what we did to them?"**_

Despite the growing fear in him at what horror was he was going to see, Count Formal wanted to know. _"W-What did you do…?"_

 _ **"We did this."**_

The various acts of torture were removed and now displayed the sea at sunset. Colt could see the outline of an island in the horizon – that must be the nation that attacked them. As he was wondering what would happen and then something happened that would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life.

A massive explosion of fire and death engulfed the island. Count Formal could do nothing but watch in absolute horror as the tower of flames rose up high above the clouds and literally parted the very heavens themselves! **(CASTLE BRAVO NUCLEAR TEST – MARCH 1, 1954)**

He could not believe it…this country just destroyed an entire nation in one fell swoop. The color red flooded the room as Colt shook in his chair, unable to take his eyes off of such awesome and horrific power.

This country…this United States of America possessed the power of a damn god! Then came the realization; that the Empire just made it very angry.

The vision ended and the wall reverted to white; leaving Colt a shivering mess, his face devoid of color.

 _ **"Now you see what we can really do and keep in mind that this was almost a century ago. A century is a long time to…perfect ourselves."**_

This sent chills down the Count's spine. If this was done over a century ago then he had no reason to doubt that they could and would do it again to another country. Colt did not know what kind of god would grant these people so much power but knew that the Empire truly messed with the wrong nation. Nothing and he means nothing could stop the United States from their revenge.

With his spirit broken and resolve in shambles, Colt bowed his head in defeat. _"All right…I'll cooperate…I'll tell you everything you want to know…but if you'd let me, I-I'd like to make one request."_ He now understood that there was absolutely no way that the Empire could win against such a powerful force. The Count already accepted his fate but he wanted his daughter and people out of this war…they were all innocent in this.

 _ **"You have no leg to stand on for this but I shall humor you. What is the one request, Count Colt?"**_

 _"Please…I beg you, please spare my daughter and people from your wrath. I accept what punishment you have in store for me but they are innocent and had no part in my mistakes. Please, spare them."_ Colt would have been begging on his knees if he was not chained to the chair.

 _ **"Your daughter…her name's Myui, right?"**_

Colt's eyes widened in shock and fright. _"H-How did you-"_

 _ **"We found a personal letter addressed to that name."**_

Hearing this, the Count felt a little relieved but his fear still remained for his daughter. _"Yes…that's her name."_

 _ **"Colt, give us what we want and we'll guarantee that your daughter and people won't be harmed. Know this, however, that if they attack us first then it will be out of our hands."**_

The Count nodded. As long as Italica did not fight against the United States then his daughters and his people would be fine but if they do…at least their deaths would be a quick one. _"I understand."_

 _ **"Then let us begin. What can you tell me about your leadership?"**_

* * *

While the Count was spilling everything he knows to his interrogator, in the control center was a collection of CIA agents handling the entire thing.

In particular, the agent handling Count Colt's interrogation was Special Agent Brandy M. Diaz. She hit a gold mine with this guy and it did not take much to get him talking. In fact, she had a good feeling that he was ready to sell out this Empire of his and that he was just playing token resistance to see if they were bluffing or if they could back up their words.

Like she thought, it did not take much to get him talking. All she had to do was show him some videos about his guys getting tortured brutally and to add a bit of texture, told him about a little bit of history.

Sure, she might have messed it up a little bit but the Count did not need the full details. After all, she was trying to scare him and showing him the Castle Bravo detonation and saying the one used against Japan was the icing on the cake.

Oh, and about those brutal tortures? They did not really happen – thank god for CGI and Hollywood being able to cook the video up on such short notice. Brandy looked to the other screens and it showed that the other prisoners, while a bit roughed up, were still pretty much alive. Even that douche bag, General what's-his-name. That man was stubborn and the agents needed to be a bit more…forceful but he caved soon enough. To be honest he was a pussy anyway.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: US CAPITOL BUILDING**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 17, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 14:57:08**_

 _ **SIX DAYS AFTER THE MANHATTAN INCIDENT**_

* * *

It had been six days since the horrible and unexpected incident in Manhattan left the entire world in a state of shock. An enemy numbering in the thousands had come into the city and started slaughtering innocent civilians. Thousands of people were killed and injured in horrific ways and millions of dollars' worth of property was destroyed. What is more, these crimes were perpetrated by things that everyone thought were just mere fiction.

Monsters and creatures that were supposed to be made up were actually real and this was confirmed by the President himself and that too was another shock to the world.

Now, five days after President Jameson request for an emergency session of Congress to declare war, it was time.

All around the US Congress, people were abuzz with activity. Hundreds of reporters, national and international, were all covering this for all the world to witness as the politicians were talking amongst themselves while they waited for the President to make his long awaited statement.

Said President was in his private office, reading his speech over again before sighing and tossing the papers on his desk. This past week was just horrible. President Charles D. Jameson reread the casualty reports and it made his heart sink and blood boil.

After four days of search and rescue, they finally had the final count of casualties and Jameson did not like it one damn bit. Three thousand five hundred and eighty one were killed while another fifteen thousand four hundred and eight were left injured and crippled. That did not even account for the civilians that were MIA and those numbers were growing by the second with every phone call that came in by worried family members. Not to mention those that did not even have family…those poor souls would be lost to time and history.

It appalled him. Such barbarism, such atrocities committed on American soil, against innocent American civilians.

When the engagement was swiftly put to an end, he had the whole island locked down tight and ordered the Armed Forces to DEFCON 2 in anticipation of another possible attack. Jameson was extremely glad that nothing of the sort happened but he knew more than enough not to let his guard down so all US Forces remained on high alert.

Whatever prisoners that were captured were handed off to the CIA. The CIA were infamous in getting people to talk, and the President wanted to know why they attacked his country and gave the CIA the authority to do what is necessary.

For the bodies of those…creatures, they were handed to various top secret sites to be examined for any weaknesses. They would need all the edges they could get in the coming war.

It did not take long for those prisoners to break under the pressure and give them the answer they needed. Boy did those answers piss off President Jameson, the Joint Chief of Staff and his cabinet.

It would seem that these...men were part of an empire named the Saderan Empire. They attacked the United States of America just because they can. They attacked sovereign US soil, slaughtered and possibly captured innocent American civilians...for no solid reason other than they can...

If President Jameson said that to national and international television, then the American public would no doubt call for revenge at the slight committed against them. He had every intention to because his countrymen and the world needed to hear the truth.

These bastards thought that they conquer just attack the United States, bow to their barbaric rule, and expect that they could get away with it? Well, they were about to find out what happens when you piss off a superpower.

That structure in the middle of Time Square was mostly intact and the entire island was surrounded by Task Force Guardian and the 4th Fleet and Time Square was under complete and total lockdown with two full Marine and Army divisions. Those stationed there had their orders: nothing and no one comes out of that passageway.

If something did come through, they were given full authorization to use deadly force. An order that their soldiers would gladly follow to the damn letter.

There was a knock on the door and the President was broken from his train of thoughts. Sitting up straight and clearing his throat, he gave a reply. "Yes?"

The door opened to reveal one of his aides. "It's time, Mr. President. I suggest you get ready."

"Thank you." President Jameson smiled at his aide before he closed the door and waited outside for the President to come out.

'This is it. It's show time.' Jameson said to himself and mentally prepared himself for his speech. He knew the score and failure was not on his agenda today.

Coming out of the door, Jameson met up with his aide and security detail as they made their way towards Congress. "How are things looking out there?" He asked.

"There are a lot of people out there, sir. National and international news networks are all here covering it all." The aide said. "Good luck, sir."

President Jameson could not help but nod solemnly. "Thank you. Let's get this over with."

When he was given the go signal, President Jameson strode out to the chamber and walked his way to the podium before Congress as the people applauded his arrival. He arrived at the podium and the applause quieted down.

"Senators and Representatives, it is my distinguished honor of presenting you the President of the United States." The Speaker of the House said as applause rang out again.

When it quieted down, Jameson looked at all before him. He never thought that he would have to do this as the President of the United States.

"Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, members of the Senate and the House of Representatives. Six days ago on May the eleventh in the god graced year of Two Thousand and Thirty Five, the United States of America was once again suddenly and deliberately attacked by an invading enemy force. As you all know, this enemy was not the sort that were are used to fighting. No, what we faced was something that we thought only existed in our imagination and yet we all saw it with our own eyes and heard it with our own ears. It is my greatest regret that I inform you that over four thousand lives were lost, a further fifteen thousand were left injured, and an unknown number our of people were taken prisoner by these savages."

Sounds of outrage erupted in Congress before they were silenced.

"Over seventeen years ago, the world was once again engulfed in a terrible war that almost destroyed us but we emerged stronger than ever and lived in relative peace." He continued with pride before gaining a solemn expression. "But our precious peace was shattered."

He could hear murmuring among the crowds but the President continued. "After we have already endured the terrible flames of war on our own shores, we were once again attacked by an enemy that came from the unknown. To the families and loved ones of those that perished, I extend my deepest condolences and my sincerest apologies as we failed to protect you as was our duty. This moment is where pleasantries end." And just like that, the sorrow filled eyes were replaced with fire. "Only two days, I have received a report from our intelligence agencies regarding these assailants and why did they attacked us. Their reason was that they can. They attacked us because they can and we would bow down to their rule." He almost growled out and the already enraged crowd was further enraged.

"This blatant and unprovoked attack on our country will not go unanswered. The barbaric and savage treatment of our people will not go unpunished!" He slammed his fist into his stand to prove his point and shouts of agreement echoed all over Congress.

"This enemy has declared war on us the moment they spilled American blood on American soil." He continued as everyone quieted down. "It is why, I stand before you and Congress to ask that we declare a state of war and bring those responsible here to face the consequences of their actions." Everyone stood up and clapped at his words, but he wasn't done yet.

"Like we did before, when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, when Al-Qaeda brought down the World Trade Center and when the Russians brought war onto our shores, we will rise again stronger than ever and we will WIN!"

The crowd's applause was deafening as President Jameson finished his speech as he walked out of the podium.

This Empire made the mistake of invading the United States of America. It is time for it to realize that it has poked an eagle in the eye and took her chicks from her nest. Now it was time for it to pay dearly and feel her talons.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Special thanks to Ckoud Link Zero and Trainalf for their tremendous help with this chapter and for giving me additional content.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter**_ _ **III – The Politics of War**_

* * *

 _"Politics is war without bloodshed while war is politics with bloodshed.." – Mao Zedong_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 19, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 12:03:16**_

 _ **EIGHT**_ _ **DAYS AFTER MANHATTAN INCIDENT**_

* * *

Immediately after President Jameson's rousing declaration of war, the United States of America began preparing to once again for war. Before, they fought only to defend – to defend their ideals of freedom and democracy, to defend those that could not defend themselves, and recently to defend themselves against the Russians invasion of their country and of Europe.

Very seldom did the US ever attacked in retaliation and the only times they did was when Al-Qaeda brought down the World Trade Center and when the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor – both of which were fueled by anger and outrage.

Now for the third time in its history, the United States of America would fight to avenge the terrible acts committed upon its citizens and lands against an enemy that either had a copious amount of audacity or is completely insane to think that they could attack the most powerful country on Earth on a whim. Did they think that if they destroy their homes, slaughter their loved ones, capture many of their fellow Americans to do God knows what to expect the American people to just bend over to their sadistic regime?

When the time was right, they would find out that the true depth of their actions and the consequences that awaits them.

The United States had more than enough muscle to launch a full scale invasion right now. High Command however, knew that even with their superior firepower and tactics they literally had no idea where that passageway or 'Gate' according to the leads to.

For all they knew, an even larger force was waiting for them on the other side just waiting for them to come through. It also did not help that the Gate would essentially bottleneck their forces, making them dangerously vulnerable to attack.

The United States knows far better than to underestimate an enemy like that no matter how pathetic they are and no matter how far their strength difference is. The lessons of the Vietnam War, the War on Terror and World War 3 are a shining testament to that.

It is why, two days after President Jameson's official declaration of war, did the National Security Council convene in the White House's John F. Kennedy Conference Room to discuss what they have learned so far about their latest foe in greater detail They wanted to talk about the risks involved, the ultimate objectives of this upcoming war and how to achieve them, the preparation of their forces and other miscellaneous concerns that could wait in the end.

They did not have to wait long though as President Jameson came into the room. All those in attendance rose from their seat in respect to the Commander and Chief.

"Mr. President." They intoned in greeting.

"Ladies and Gentlemen." President Jameson nodded in acknowledgement to them as he reached his seat and sat down, prompting the others to do so as well. The President sighed tiredly and everyone in the room could see that he was doing so well over these past few days.

He had bags under his eyes, his hair was slightly unkempt, and his complexion got a little bit paler were among other things they could overtly see. It would appear that the President has not been getting some much needed sleep with everything going on.

No one could blame him though. No matter who you are, the weight of having to lead your country through a period of great strife was…staggering to say the least even to the most hardened of leaders.

President Jameson took a second to recompose himself before facing them. "Sorry, had a rough week." He said with a shake of his head. The rest of the Council nodded in understanding. After all, they were in the same boat as well. "All right, let's get this started. Everyone, we are once again at war against an enemy we know next to nothing about and the only entrance to hostile territory is literally right at our own backyard but before we continue, I'd like to know the status of that so called 'Gate'. Has anything happened since then?"

General Drummond shook his head. "Negative, sir. We've maintained constant surveillance on that structure and have reported no signs of any activity. Even so, we have the entire place on lockdown. Nothing and no one is getting through without being greeted with hot lead to the face."

"See that you do. Let's be thankful that another of those things didn't pop up somewhere. I don't want another massacre of our people to happen." The President was indeed thankful that so far, there has not been another reported invasion. That does not mean that they could breathe easier now though since even one of those things was one too much.

Strange forces that they could not comprehend were at work here and they could not afford to be caught with their pants down again. The cost would be too great to bear.

"I assure you sir that won't happen." General Drummond tried to placate the Commander and Chief's justified worries. "Our armed forces stand at the ready and are patrolling the entire country for any sign of such a phenomenon. If one does pop up, we'll be ready."

Although it was not much, that at least alleviated Jameson's worries a little. Assuming that this could happen again, they had no way of detecting where these bastards would come next so it left them little choice but to mobilize the entire military. At the very least, they would be ready in case another attack was to happen.

"Thank you, General." President Jameson nodded before turning to the rest of the Council. "Now I understand that we now have the full testimony of at least one of the prisoners but before we delve into that, what can you tell me about these prisoners?" He asked, looking at hisdirectors of intelligence.

"Generally speaking, sir, they're a bunch of pricks." Director Kerstin said. "Since they woke up all we heard from them was the following. I quote, 'The Empire will make you pay for this, you will rue the day you dare defy our rule, we will enjoy watching you beg for mercy as our armies crush you', and so on. General Siricus, the commander of their invasion force, is the worst of them."

General Drummond chuckled. "Seems like you got your hands full. Is there anything else we found out about them?"

"There is." The CIA Director nodded. "While most broke easily given what we put them through, some of the more experienced and hardened of them are still hanging on…by a thread. Ironically, their overall commander, a Tertius Siricus was the first one to break. I guess he was all bark and no bite."

Director Cooper nodded. "Indeed and they have given us some very interesting information. The most cooperative of them would be a Count Colt Fortunato Umbrius Formal, one of the commanders of their little party. I believe we now have a basic understanding of the enemy or rather, the Saderan Empire as it is named. We have also confiscated some maps and other important documents from their command center."

President Jameson and the rest of the Council nodded in approval, glad that they now had something to work with. "Good, what have you found out about this empire?"

For this, Director Kerstin came forward to present her findings. "If you would turn your attention to the screen." The Council complied and faced the large screen as Director Kerstin presented an image – it was a map of a continent of some sorts.

As the highest ranking and senior most military officer in the armed forces, the principal military advisor to the President and having decades of military experience under his belt, General Drummond studied the map thoroughly. "Is that the place where they came from?"

The CIA Director nodded. "Yes, this is the map of the continent of Falmart from what we've gathered. After careful analyzation, we estimate that it's roughly the size of Eurasia and most of it is under the control of the Empire. Most of our initial efforts would be focused around this area." The image zoomed in and at the center of it was Alnus Hill. "According to the prisoners, the Gate originated here – Alnus Hill. It's considered to be scared lands by the Saderans and the various races there." The position was highlighted for the Council to see. "Judging from the map and the accounts of the prisoners, we have reason to believe that the terrain surrounding the hill is mostly open fields all around."

That got nods of approval from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Normally, open ground was considered a death sentence for any troop movement as the threat of air strikes and artillery would reduce them to nothing without protection but here, the circumstances were different.

Judging from the way these Saderans fight, they may only move forwards or backwards much like the armies of old. With that in mind, the US could use its superior mobility and firepower to out maneuver any enemy formations and cut them down. Essentially, running around them in circles and gunning them down with minimal casualties on their side.

Realistically, this would have been impossible against a modern, well-trained and well-equipped force but the US was up against an enemy several hundred years behind them in technology and tactics. It was almost pitiful that the Saderan Empire picked a fight with the United States. Almost.

Another thing that was an immediate advantage was that the other side of the Gate sits directly on top of a hill, meaning they would have the high ground. History has shown that fighting from an elevated position was advantageous for the most part. For whoever controlled it, their enemy would have to fight up hill. It offered vantage points with a wide field of view and it was relatively easier to defend against attacks as opposed to defending a position in a depressed position like the bottom of a valley. With the added bonus of their supply lines being literally inside the base, they could hold out indefinitely even if the enemy manages to cut them off.

Yes, that could work very well for them but there was one small problem to that plan. As dictated by the Laws of War, religious sites are not to be disturbed meaning that, by law, an attack would be illegal.

This would have to be deliberated in greater detail later.

"Continue, Director." President Jameson said and Director Kerstin nodded. She then brought up the names of landmarks and locations that would prove useful for future operations.

"As you can see, Alnus Hill is surrounded by landmarks and some of which may be points of interests for future operations. To the South, there is Tuba Mountains, the Schwarz Forest, and the Roldom Valley. To the North, there are the cities of Italica, Rondel and Bellnahgo, the Romalia Mountains, the Rho River, and other small towns. To the East, there is the Roma River, the Coan Forest, the Dumas Mounstans, and the Blue Sea. Now here is the seat of power of the Empire." Director Kerstin then highlighted the city to the North East of Alnus Hill. "Sadera, the Imperial Capital." Now that captured the attention of the Council. "It is approximately three hundred and eighty miles from Alnus Hill and is connected to the cities of Telta and Proptor to its North East and South East, respectively. It is also connected to the Blue Sea suggesting that it may have a substantial Navy. We have been informed by the Count that that's the case as Proptor is the main base for the bulk of their Navy. It is also worth noting that the Empire has colonies on the two larger islands south of the continent." The map zoomed out and focused on said islands. "Clyrahm and Vrylk. We have been told that there are numerous Saderan colonies there."

Secretary Tenner hummed in thought. "Those names sound familiar somehow. I don't know what most are but I know that Schwarz is German, and Dumas is French."

Now he mentioned it, some of those names do sound familiar to them. Being individuals of authority, they were obligated to understand a few dialects and they all saw the similarities.

"True, we ran those names and their speech with linguistic programs and they came back that most of those words are nearly identical to our world's dialects." Director Cooper said. "We have detected forms of German, French, Latin, Greek, Russian, Spanish and other European, Asian, and African dialects."

This left the Council baffled but they should have expected this to begin with. With a few exceptions, the force that attacked them looked and operated much like Ancient Romans…or it looked like it to them at least. It would make sense that they would have some similarities with their counterparts here but that raises another question.

"So, what? Are you saying that this is some kind of…alternate Earth?" The Secretary of State, Rebecca J. Keaton, asked with a little bit disbelief.

"We honestly can't say." Director Cooper sighed. "There are too many variables and factors we don't know about. Maybe this is some kind of alternate universe where magic exists on Earth, or this could just be another different planet but on a different universe. I think we would need more time testing this out before coming to any conclusions."

The rest of the Council nodded. Though a little bit troubled at the implications of such a thought, they knew that jumping to conclusions was not the way to go here. Most of them were not men and women of science so they did not have the expertise to do these sort of things.

President Jameson made a mental note to have their research departments look into this immediately. If this really is a doorway between dimensions and universes, it could change their understanding of everything – both in a good and bad way. Or perhaps he could hold it off until later. If the movies he's watched over the years has taught him anything, things like this tend to blow up in your face spectacularly.

Deciding that this was something to be discussed later, the Council studied the map for a few minutes. They will not be taking on an entire continent filled with God knows what else. The objectives laid out before them were clear – rescue any and all Americans that were taken prisoner and capture those responsible. The US was not out to conquer an entire world. It would be a costly and unnecessary endeavor regardless of their military strength and the UN would not stand for it.

President Jameson looked over the map carefully before his eyes set onto the city of Italica. He may not be a military man but he was willing to bet that if they took that city, it could be their forward operating base and a starting point for their push towards Sadera. After all, judging from the map the city looks to be sitting at a crossroads and one of those roads led directly to the capital.

"Director, correct me if I'm wrong but does Italica hold any strategic value?" The President asked as Kerstin zoomed into Italica. "I don't know about you, but we could use that as a forward base. Not to mention that it would be a straight drive towards the capital."

General Drummond thought it over and he could not help but agree with the President. Taking the small city of Italica would make things easier for future operations further to the North, extending their reach. In addition, he could also see that Italica sits upon the intersection of two roads, suggesting that it could be some kind of trade center.

"Quite true, Mr. President." Kerstin nodded. "While its location alone holds substantial strategic value, it is also a major center of trade for the whole region. Coincidentally, Italica's under the leadership of Count Formal but in the event of his death, leadership of the city and its surrounding lands and inhabitants would fall to his youngest daughter, Myui Elyria Formal. According to the Count, she will turn eleven by end of the month."

Despite being glad that Italica held much importance to their cause, they pitied the girl for having such responsibility placed upon her at a very young age and she would probably think that her father was dead, adding to her burden. All of them were not so naïve as to question their ways, it is just the way things worked at the time. After all, the same could be said about their own countries hundreds of years ago and even to this day.

Still though, in order to serve their goals, Italica would have to fall into American hands. That would be the first phase of the operation.

"What about the Empire itself?" Defense Secretary Tenner asked. "Do we know its structure of government, its population, and their military?"

For this, Director Cooper took over and Director Kerstin stepped aside. "From our understanding, the Saderan Empire is a pre-industrial, militaristic, autocratic and hegemonic state. Its political structure is nearly identical to that of the Roman Empire and is ruled by an emperor. In this case, Molt Sol Augustus. According to the Count, he was the one who authorized the attack on Time Square."

The Council narrowed their eyes at the name. So, this Molt Sol Augustus was the asshole that started all of this, huh? He would be at the very top of the list of targets to either capture alive or be killed on sight depending on the circumstances.

"Do we have anything on this Emperor Augustus?" The Vice President, Barbara C. Krantz, asked. She wanted to know just what kind of man they were dealing with.

"Nothing substantial, it would seem." Director Kerstin said with a hint of disappointment. "Most of the prisoners practically worship him and revere him. Typical behavior for anyone under a monarchy of that scale, they sometimes tend to elevate their leader to near mythical levels if they're great enough. But Count Formal has given us a run down on him."

The Vice President nodded but she and the Council made a mental note to question if what the Count was saying was trustworthy or not later on. "He must have known him well, I suppose."

The CIA Director nodded. "I wouldn't say they knew each other closely, but he did deal with him on a few occasions from what he's told us and some of them weren't pleasant. Going by that, Emperor Augustus is an intelligent and calculating but also cold, manipulative, and ruthless. He has all the makings of a dictator – inclined to take anything he wants through acts of war, territorial expansion or by bullying other less powerful countries. He is also paranoid, not trusting even his allies as he feels that they would betray him if given the chance. This has him opting to rule by force and fear rather than giving the people a reason to be loyal to him. One redeeming fact about him is that he takes the overall health of his country very seriously but that doesn't mean that he takes the health of his people just as seriously, viewing them as expendable resources."

The Council frowned. Given all that they have heard, they were dealing with someone comparable to Joseph Stalin post World War II. They were sure that there was more to discuss about Emperor Augustus and the other major players but for now, they need to move on before going back to that. "We'll return to Emperor Augustus and the other major players' character later on. For now, let's continue with how things work in the Saderan Empire." The National Security Advisor, Jeffrey K. Santos, said and the Council nodded in agreement.

Director Cooper cleared his throat. "Now while the emperor is the near absolute monarchy, substantial power is also given to the Imperial Senate. It functions much like the Roman Empire's Senate and while the emperor has the final say, the senate and other powerful figures can influence his decision and even outright overthrow him should the need ever arise."

The Council nodded in understanding. That could be useful later on.

"On a side note, according to Count Formal, there exist the concept of princes and princesses, indicating that they may have adopted a bit of medieval customs as well. An odd combination to say the least." Director Kerstin said.

"And who are these princes and princesses?" President Jameson asked, interested to know who these princes and princesses are.

"From what we have been told, Molt has about fourteen children but we have determined that three of them are of high importance. Princes Zorzal El Caesar and Diablo El Caesar, and Princess…Piña Co Lada."

.

.

.

"…Like the drink?" Vice President Krantz asked with an amused brow. "I don't know who to feel sorrier for; her for having to live with that name, or the parent that decided to call her that."

Director Cooper shrugged "I know it's a bit… _uncommon_ but that really is her name. Nevertheless, the first in line for the throne is Zorzal, a nasty piece of work from what Count Formal informed us. The second in line is Diablo and the princess is the fifth child overall and tenth in line for the throne, but she has a closer relationship with her father than some of the other royals. Princess Piña also commands her own order of knights called the Rose Knights. She is also the most tolerable of the royal family and is a friend to the Count; saying that she is the one most concerned about the well being of the Empire and its inhabitants than the others and secretly disapproves of the way her father and brother does things."

The President looked at Secretary Tenner, General Drummond, and then to Director Kerstin who all nodded. They realize that while the either or both of the princes could be captured as a form of leverage, Princess Piña could be persuaded to help them. In any case, she would be the one to watch.

"What about their military strength?" General Drummond asked, wanting to know what they would be facing in the field.

"Currently, we have little to no data on their full strength and capabilities and the ones we do have are the video recordings which are a great help but it's still not much." Director Cooper said. "But still, according to Count Formal, the Saderan Military is estimated to be in the hundreds of thousands and that's including all those creatures they have at their disposal. Going by our own assumptions, we estimate that their numbers roughly equal that of Ancient Rome at its peak – roughly seven hundred thousand, probably more. That also does not include the total number of soldiers from vassal states that they can call upon."

The Council frowned, none more so than General Drummond. As if their problems were not big enough, now they possibly had to contend with other countries that were allied to the Saderans as well.

"This just keeps getting better and better." President Jameson grumbled. He was not looking forward to fighting an entire continent. "All right, what about them?"

Director Kerstin browsed through the documents before she found what she was looking for. "Seeing as this is a continent, there could be more countries there but there are currently five vassal states we know of. The kingdoms of Elbe, Alguna, Mudwan and Toumaren, and the Principality of Ligu. All of which are located here." The map highlighted the states' positions. "Approximately three hundred and fifty miles from Alnus Hill, all in varying directions."

General Drummond hummed in thought. "How many men can they muster in such short notice?"

"Unknown, but Count Formal has stated that the kingdoms were able to raise an army one hundred thousand strong in just under a week." Director Kerstin said, making the Council recoil in surprise. "We estimate that they could throw more at us though – possibly twice that number."

That sounded troubling to say the least. It was bad enough that they had to contend with an Empire whose military possibly equaled that of Ancient Rome's, now they had to deal with its allies who could raise an army two hundred thousand strong. If such a thing were to happen, then the US would be fighting just under one millions enemy fighters and possibly half the continent.

The General leaned on his chair and made some quick calculations in his mind. If this was a modern world like their own, the moment the US would launch its invasion against the Empire then its allies would come running thus making things very difficult for them. Alas, this was not a modern world which means that the US had the advantage in every way that counted.

Communications between them would be extremely slow as they would need to be delivered on horseback or by air and even that would take a large amount of time. When the call for help does arrive to these kingdoms, the General was sure that their forces would be well entrenched and their position heavily defended. After all,close to four hundred miles is a very long way to go on foot amd by horse, and it would probably take those soldiers a month to both assemble and male the journey to the Hill – more than enough time for suitable defenses to be set up and then some.

"I hold no delusions on this, gentlemen. While I believe we can hold them off, I cannot in good conscience, sentence over one million souls to die by our hands." President Jameson said. "There must be a different way than wholesale slaughter."

"Are you suggesting we negotiate with them, Jameson?" Secretary Tenner said incredulously. "We both know that will never work."

"We must try something, Chester." Vice President Krantz said. "You and I both know that this won't be a war, this will be a massacre every time we meet them head on. We're just too advanced and too strong for them. By the end of this so called 'war', the casualties would be low on our side but theirs would be horrifying. I'm not saying we seek peace with the Empire, but maybe we can sway the other kingdoms to back off."

Advisor Santos shook his head. "It's easier said than done. They wouldn't believe what we'd say to them and they'd never break an alliance – it's a matter of honor to them. Unless the Empire does something for the kingdoms to abandon it, we'll be fighting them no matter what we do."

"On the contrary, I think the Empire's already been doing that for quite some time now." Director Kerstin said with a smirk as the Council looked at her curiously.

President Jameson leaned forward. "You have something to share, Samantha?"

"According to Count Formal, the Empire has been very harsh on the treatment of its vassal states and its people. Imposing heavy taxes, demanding excessive tributes, forcefully drafting scores of men into the army to serve, take your pick. Not to mention they disregard their own laws if the end results are to their own benefit." Director Kerstin said. "There is also discontent within their Senate and has made some pretty big opponents like Marquis Casel El Tiberius – he and a few others have announced their displeasure about the Empire's unjust conquests. Also, there is the supposed fact that they are overly controlling and abusive of their vassal states."

"Or in other words, some of the big names there are discontent with how the Empire does things." Director Cooper concluded.

Secretary Keaton drummed her fingers on a folder. "So you're saying that there is a chance we can turn them against the Empire?"

Director Kerstin nodded. "It will be difficult, but we can…with the help of Count Formal." The way she said it made everyone instantly know that she had something up her sleeves. Whether it was good or bad was anyone's guess.

President Jameson sighed, realizing what Director Kerstin was going at. He had to admit, that was a viable course of action but it would not be so well received by the others. "You want me to pardon the Count so he can help us in the field, don't you?"

Before the Director could say something, the Secretary of State beat her to the punch. "Absolutely not. He may be giving us what we want, but need I remind you that he was part of the invasion force that killed thousands of civilians, caused hundreds of millions of dollars in damages, and kidnapped a number of our people to be sold as slaves?! Besides, how can we even trust him anyway? He could just be misleading us or something!"

The Council had to admit, Secretary Tenner made a very good point. They were trusting the words of a man that is supposed to be their enemy. After all, no one could easily betray their own country just like that. They looked at Director Kerstin to see what her rebuttal was.

"Completely understandable, but it would seem that Count Formal has his own share of grievances against the Empire. When he was a boy, his father and mother were executed after another lord falsely accused them of treason. When the lies were found out, said lord got away with nothing more than a slap on the wrist and Count Formal did not receive any kind of compensation. Another instance is with regards to those that he has taken in."

That drew some curiosity from the Council. "What do you mean?" The Attorney General, Robert C. DeGuerin asked.

"It would appear that Prince Zorzal had launched a campaign against the races of Lagoans, Macskans, and the Lupins. The Lagoans are a race of fierce warrior women that have the physical attributes of rabbits, the Lupins are the names of the wolf humanoid race, and the Macskans are a race of cat peoples."

"And the Saderans waged war against them? At the same time?" President Jameson asked in amazement. "What was their goal in that anyway?"

It was then that Director Kerstin and Cooper's expression darkened. "Primarily, this was just to fuel Prince Zorzal's ambition. He conquered the three races so they could become slaves and satisfy his own ego and sadistic tendencies."

At the mention of slavery, the rest of the Council bristled but kept their words to themselves. Even though slavery has been outlawed internationally, they understand that things were different on the other side. The world that they currently lived in is a modern civilized world where the concept of slavery and other such atrocities are viewed with contempt and punishable with extreme consequences. While over on the other side it is akin to the ancient times; it would be unfair to compare the two different worlds to each other.

Nevertheless, it left a very sour taste in their mouths especially if these atrocities were committed by some prince who is more than likely sick in the head.

"Count Formal despised the idea of slavery and had given the surviving pockets refuge in his lands but it wasn't that simple. He essentially had to buy all of them so the Empire could not hound them. It cost him quite a bit of his fortune." Director Kerstin said. "In return for his kindness, the three races offered their services as his servants, guards etc."

President Jameson hummed in thought. While he detested the thought of buying people, he could understand that the Count had no other choice in the matter. He wanted to help them but the only way to do that was to buy them so those people would not be hunted down by slavers. Some people did the same thing in the Civil War of their own world.

Despite the technicality of it, the Count gave them a home and their freedoms back at the expense of his own. It was an admirable thing to do.

"Interesting, this Count seems to be the one good apple in a bad bunch." The Secretary of the Treasury, Emilia S. Eisenberg noted.

The White House Chief of Staff, Todd J. Garcia nodded. "Yes, it would seem that way. Those three races would be willing to fight the Saderans the first chance they get but convincing them that we are there to beat the Empire and give them back their freedom would be difficult if we didn't have the Count to placate them."

Now the Council could see that the Count would be of use to them there than being locked up in some black site prison. It would certainly make things easier for them and maybe he could be made into some kind of consultant for them and in exchange, he'd be given a pardon or at the very least a reduced sentence. That could help Count Formal entice him to their cause.

"All right, you've made you point." President Jameson said with a nod. "I'll think about your idea and let you know what my answer is." Director Kerstin nodded with a smile. "I have to know, however, the request he undoubtedly had to have made in return for his cooperation."

"He did make one request but it was a very reasonable one." Director Cooper said.

"And that is?"

"We spare his daughter and people from our wrath." Director Kerstin replied. "He would accept any sort of punishment we'd give as he wants to atone for his sins, but asks us in exchange to leave his people in peace. We agreed but explained to him that should they attack first, we would defend ourselves accordingly. He accepted."

The rest of the Council nodded. It was a very fair deal and regardless of what the Count had asked, the US would not endanger innocent civilians. Besides, with his agreement in cooperating with them further he could have a reunion with his family…provided he performed as stipulated in their future agreement.

"Quite the honorable man, I'll see to it that Italica is unharmed once we go in. Though as you said, if they attack us first we WILL defend ourselves." General Drummond promised.

"That is all he asks. Now let's get back to the vassal states." The rest of the Council turned their attention back to the screens. "Like we said, the Empire abuses its power and demands some pretty hefty things from its vassals. While they are obligated to stand in arms when called, given of their harsh treatment, they could be persuaded to return home with the help of the Count."

The Council nodded as Advisor Santos leaned forward. "What about their leaders? Do we have anything on them?"

Director Kerstin nodded. "Yes, Duke Romero Pedretti of Ligu, King Darius Reza Tarokh of Mudwan, King Timoteo de Lunar of Alguna, King Benedito Marciano Corte-Real of Toumaren, and King Eckhart Brauer Duran of Elbe. From what we can tell, the Empire had wronged them in some way and the leaders of Ligu and Elbe are close friends with Count Formal."

The Council looked at each other. It would seem that the Count's usefulness just went up a couple of notches. If he can help them convince the other kingdoms to back off, then that would be a tremendous help and save a lot of lives.

Seeing that this was too much to pass up, President Jameson decided that he would make a deal with Count Formal. If he can help them win this war and give them credibility to the natives, then he would receive a reduced sentence or get his freedom back.

"What can you tell us about the kings there?" Secretary Keaton asked.

"The Count is not as acquainted with the other kings besides the two. Pedretti is an honorable yet overconfident man but he cares about his people. Duran, however, is a bonafide warrior-king; a seasoned battlefield commander known for his quiet, harsh and intelligent demeanor. Like the other two, he cares deeply about the welfare of his subjects. The three of them share the belief that Empire with its constant waging of wars was costing the people and lands dearly. They fear that sooner or later, the Empire would bite off more that they can chew and cause the destruction of their homes." Director Cooper said.

General Drummond chuckled. "Well, they were right about that one."

"Quite, and there is also the fact that the level of corruption in their government has been causing problems for everyone there, especially the common folk." Director Kerstin said. "The three had originally planned to stage some kind of coup to overthrow the Empire but they had neither the manpower nor the political power to do so."

"So when they do come, we just invite them to negotiations. Doable but not exactly easy to accomplish" DeGuerin said. It would be far better for everyone if there was a chance they could convince the other kingdoms to back down peacefully.

Director Cooper hummed in thought. "It wouldn't be easy by any means, true, but it is possible. If I remember correctly, in the medieval times, it is tradition to send emissaries to appeal surrenders and talks. Also, according to Count Formal, out of all the kings Duran is the most pragmatic and level headed. It also helps that he is the king of the largest of the vassal states and the others look at him as their de facto leader."

"I see, so there's a chance we can avoid further bloodshed." President Jameson nodded. He was glad about that prospect, these people were innocent in all of this and he would much rather leave them unharmed. "It seems that the Saderan Empire is not as united as we thought."

The Council nodded in agreement. A united nation would be a difficult opponent. A divided one, no matter how small that divide is, would be easy pickings if they moved fast enough.

"All right, we've already established that. What have we learned about their military forces?" Secretary Tenner asked.

"In terms of military, their tactics seems to be very similar to Ancient Romans and Medieval armies though with the obvious inclusion of those creatures. All the other kingdoms' military are based on the Empire's own but have developed their own tactics." Director Cooper said. "Elbe's military focuses primarily on offense, using heavy infantry and cavalry to inflict massive damage unto an enemy. Alguna's military focuses on quick and decisive attacks. Mudwan's own focuses on defensive action. Ligu's focuses on rapid action and hit and run tactics. Not to mention their apparent ability to use… _magic_." It was clear that the Director of National Intelligence was having trouble in believing magic but he could not refute what has been documented.

What the Director said drew some surprised reactions from the Council. Even though that this was only an estimation, going up against hundreds of thousands of enemy troops could prove dangerous no matter how inferior they are. Not to mention all of those creatures they have. Just from their appearance alone, some of them could cause some major damage.

All the more concerning was their use of magic. That was something no one on this Earth had no idea what to do about. For all they know, the Saderans possessed some kind of spell that could rival the destructive power of a nuclear or worse, a hydrogen bomb!

"I see…" President Jameson mumbled. It was indeed troubling that they were facing a rather large force but the US also had all the advantages that it was not even funny. Still, if they wanted to keep those advantages then they had to play it smart. "What about those creatures and their magic? Do we have anything on them?"

"Sadly no, sir." Director Cooper said regrettably. "After the battle, the clean up team recovered very little specimens that are – for the most part – intact. With very little to work with, we have not found any sort of useful information on how to deal with them. The same goes for any of them being able to use magic. From the prisoners we have, none of them displays any kind of magical abilities. If they did, we'd have a very big problem."

Jameson cursed inwardly. He was hoping that even with the small samples, they could get something useful in order to know what they were dealing with. Now he supposed that was wishful thinking. He also agreed with Cooper on the ones that used magic as well. If they had captured individuals that could use magic, the dangers involved would be immense. After all, magic – from what the media and fiction displays – is a very tricky subject. While an obvious loss of information, perhaps it was for the best that the ones who could use magic were dead.

"I understand, but there has to be something that can give us an edge on these creatures. Anything that can tell us how they can be taken down or at the very least, how much punishment they can take before being killed." President Jameson said. If they were going to war against enemies such as these, then their troops must know where to shoot where it hurts the most.

General Drummond went on to deliver his own input. "Mr. President, while not much, we do have recordings of the engagements against some of the creatures. I believe that will give us some insight on things."

Thinking it over, Jameson nodded his consent. "Better than nothing, I suppose. All right, General, show us."

With permission given, General Drummond stood up from his seat and prepared the recording for presentation. "Recording A, Subject B-0537." The video showed what looked like a wolf humanoid. "This is one of the many common humanoid creatures we have faced. As you can see, it is stocky suggesting it is exceptionally strong yet limber enough that it is also fast."

The recording continued as the wolf humanoid came straight at a squad of Marines, dashing right and left with astonishing agility in order to avoid the hails of gunfire. Fortunately, before it could come any closer, a bullet ripped through its left shoulder, stunning it for a few seconds. That was enough time for the Marines to concentrate fire and riddle the thing with bullet holes. "As you can see, these types of humanoids are relatively easy to deal with but their physical attributes will be troublesome. Some are very agile enough to dodge gunfire at a distance and strong enough to break down doors with little trouble, but fortunately some of them display little intelligence - opting to just run right into storms of bullets instead of taking cover. Now the ones that caused us the most problems are the ones that are about to be shown next."

General Drummond went on to the creatures that warranted special attention and observation. "Subjects G-7894, O-2460, and D-4367." The first image showed large and muscular humanoids with gray, green, or purplish skin and pig/ape-like face. It had little to no armor protecting it and its primary weapon is but a simple wooden club but judging from the size of it, the creature was capable of some serious damage.

The second showed an even larger humanoid similar in appearance to the first one but appeared far stronger and more dangerous as well. Unlike the first one however, this one wore some heavy duty armor and wielded either a large axe or hammer. They could only imagine the havoc this creature would cause on them.

The third creature was something all of them could recognize, a dragon. There was no need to express how dangerous a flying fire breathing reptile can be. The specimen shown has been outfitted with armor and is ridden by an enemy soldier suggesting that this was the enemy's primary air asset. The fact that the Saderan Military had managed to tame dragons to be ridden on…that was both interesting and troubling.

"The first two creatures, I can only guess are either an orc or an ogre by fantasy lore standards but regardless, they prove to be a substantial threat against our troops. The example is shown in Recording B."

The recording showed the first creature easily destroying a car with just one swing of its club and smashing some fleeing civilians to paste. This made the Council bristle in discomfort and anger at the brutality against their countrymen. When up against a squad of Marines, it just lumbered forward stupidly. It proved to be quite resilient against small arms fire. It took the squad about six seconds of continuous fire to bring the beast to its knees before it was finished off by two shots from an XM25, blowing it to bloody chunks.

Though the beast was defeated, the Council cannot deny their worry.

"Even though without armor, the creature's hide can withstand dozens of shot before being taken down with two shots from a grenade launcher to finish the job. It can take quite a beating but it also appears to be dumb and slow, granting our troops time to put more rounds down range before it can do any damage. I highly recommend that if encountered, have our snipers use anti-tank or any kind of anti-armor rounds to remove it at a distance before it can become a threat up close."

The General then went on to the next recording. The next creature proved to be a brute. With its immense strength, it hoisted a car up into the air and threw it towards a nearby building like it was nothing more than a toy. Even worse, it was also capable of doing some serious damage as one swing of its hammer caused to pavement to buckle and break completely on a second strike.

When faced against their forces, the creature's armor protected with from small arms fire. The Marines had to fall back lest they be flattened. Thankfully, an LAV-25A2 pulled up and unloaded a barrage of 25mm high explosive shells into that monster. This time, the shells easily penetrated its armor and impacted its flesh causing it to roar in pain. When the barrage was done, there was nothing left of the creature but chunks of flesh and pools of blood.

"While similar in appearance to the first creature, it is far stronger and more vicious. Basically, it's the same thing on steroids." General Drummond said. "Thanks to its armor and the thick hide beneath it, it can withstand far greater damage. Small arms fire is useless against it and only high caliber and high explosive weaponry are capable of bringing it down. If encountered in battle, I would recommend troops fall back and request backup from a tank or call for air support while using whatever explosive devices they have on person to slow it down."

He then went onto the next subject which was the dragons and played the recording. Their attack patterns was pretty straightforward – swooping down on fleeing civilians and attack with their claws and teeth, as well as allow the rider to impale them with his lance before taking off into the air to avoid any sort of retaliation. It was a basic hit and run tactic.

A dragon and its rider are next shown to be harassing an Abrams tanks, trying their best to attack it but claws, teeth and spears are not enough to penetrate the extremely tough armor of the Abrams. Just as it was pulling away again for another attack, the tank's CROWS operated M2 Machine Gun swerved to meet it and fired. Not expecting that sort of thing, the dragon was peppered with hot lead; its body and wings being shredded by powerful fifty caliber rounds before crashed into a car. For good measure, the Abrams fired one HEAT round into it before moving on.

"As it is an aerial threat and is certainly agile, fierce and trained, it's a major threat to our troops in any situation without any sort of anti-air. Thankfully though, they do not display the ability to breathe fire but I wouldn't get my hopes up just yet. Another thing to note is that small arms fire is ineffective as they just bounce off." To prove his point, General Drummond showed a recording where a group of soldiers fired upon a dragon but the bullets just kept bouncing of its scales before it flew away. "As such, the only things that can take it down are high caliber weapons and anti-air missiles or rounds. I would highly recommend killing the rider first as it is swooping down and then, while the dragon has lost its main source of instruction, take it down with concentrated fire."

"The General is right on how tough that thing is." Director Cooper said. "While there are no bodies left intact, we have recovered samples of those scales. Results came back that those scales are comparable to ceramic armors used in our armored vehicles. It is like a naturally occurring form of ceramic." That surprised the Council. A naturally occurring form of ceramic? Despite the situation that it presented, a resource such as that could prove beneficial to their forces on land, sea and air.

"Can we synthesize those on our own equipment?" Secretary Tenner asked.

Director Cooper hummed in thought. "It may take some time and further research, but we can. We would need more samples though." Secretary Tenner nodded, satisfied with the reply. If more samples were needed then perhaps they could obtain them on the field. They could possibly capture a dragon – a corpse or otherwise just as long as it is intact – and bring it in for further testing, but that had more challenges than just killing it outright.

Seeing that the two are done conversing, the General then continued with the last of his presentation. "The next subject is one of those mages, Subject T-9957."

In the recording, it showed one of those mages using some kind of energy shield to cover the retreating enemy soldiers. The shield was taking copious amounts of small arms fire and explosives. Though it was holding, the mage keeping it up seems to be straining from the abuse. It was not until Abrams tank fired into the shield. The result was catastrophic – the shell punched right through the shield and obliterated the mage.

"Though we have no idea the exact capabilities of their magic, we can ascertain that they can erect energy fields that are capable of dishing out tremendous abuse though it is hard to maintain as we saw. However the effectiveness of said shields may depend on the user. I had no doubt that small arms fire can chip away at it but more powerful weapons are needed to breach those things in one shot. It also seems like it places a lot of mental strain and enough concentrated fire could cause the user to possibly have a fatal mental breakdown or aneurysm. Now, I know we have every advantage when it comes to technology, tactics and fire power, the fact remains that we have no idea who we are fighting against. Going in blind is a mistake I will not be making. That's what lead to our previous defeats too many times before." The General then concluded his presentation and went back to his seat as the rest digested what they had learned.

What General Drummond said was true, they had the immediate advantage is overall strength but they all knew that strength alone does not win all battles. While primitive in comparison, the Saderan Empire could still pose a very significant threat, IF they could pull themselves together long enough to do so.

They could not afford to underestimate this enemy as even the weakest of beings can defeat the mightiest of titans.

"That certainly helps but it's still not enough." Advisor Santos sighed. "I have a feeling that we'd be fighting more than just ogres, orcs, goblins, dragons, or mages. There's probably more things we don't know about."

That was true, but there was very little they could do about that. For that, they would have to get the intel directly from the field and that poses significant dangers to their own forces.

Garcia looked at everyone who were all deep in thought before clearing his throat. "Uh, sir, I may have an idea for that, but it sounds kind of dumb." He said as everyone looked at him.

"I think we can all agree that nothing would sound dumb at this point." President Jameson sighed. "What do you have in mind?"

"Well…" Garcia cleared his throat. "I can't believe I'm even suggesting this but I think we should call in the… _experts_ on the field."

The rest of the Council looked at him curiously. "Experts?"

"Yes. Like gamers, fantasy writers, otakus, manga writers, anime fans, and such." The Council looked at him weirdly making him sigh. "Look, I know it sounds stupid but if we want to know how to take those things down effectively and efficiently, we'd need their help to teach our troops where to hit them where it hurts the most. While we can all agree that comparing real life to a book or a video game is ludicrous on paper, this is all that we really have and usually weak points on any enemy tends to be the same and leave them intact if need be. We have nothing to lose by getting a second opinion at the very least."

The White House Chief of Staff was right, it does sound like an extremely stupid idea. The idea of otakus, gamers, and fantasy writers teaching their battle ready troops on how to deal with orcs, ogres, fairies, elves etc. was…laughable and humiliating to say the least. Alas, in its own weird way, it made sense.

With the specimens they captured so badly damaged that they could not extract much useful information, they had little choice but to call upon people who knew these kinds of stuff to help them.

"…I guess we really don't have much of a choice." President Jameson mumbled before shaking his head in amusement. The most powerful military force in the world being taught how to deal with magical creatures was…funny in its own weird way.

"Well…at least that's one thing to lighten the tone here." Director Cooper chuckled. "Am I to assume that you approve of this idea, sir?"

"Yes." President Jameson nodded. "Our choices are limited in the matter and this is the best we got. Perhaps we could also interview the survivors and police officers on how they took some of them down?"

Director Kerstin nodded. "That would be a smart move. I would also suggest we get to know their way of life as well. Perhaps we can call in some scholars and historians as well? If they're a combination of Rome and ancient European nation, we can get a lot of good facts straight and not step on the native's toes."

The Council nodded in agreement. History has shown that if one knows the way of life of an enemy, the better his chances are of defeating him. In the words of Sun Tzu, "Know thy enemy." After all, it could help them win over the population against their oppressive leaders.

"All right, I can make the arrangements for that." The Secretary of State said.

The President nodded before turning to General Drummond. "How soon can we go in?"

"Soon, sir. It's just a matter of amassing and briefing our forces. But we would need to send tier one teams in to assess the area and to make sure no one's waiting for us on the other side."

The President frowned. He is not exactly too keen on sending troops onto the other side of that Gate. If they did, they would be in an entirely hostile location with no hope of support or back up. Still, it was a necessary step to pave the way for their invasion. He just hoped that nothing bad happens when it inevitably does happen.

"Understood. I want those men to come back home alive, General. The first casualties of this war _will not_ be one of our own, am I clear?"

The General nodded. "Crystal, sir."

"All right." President Jameson sighed and leaned back on his chair. "Are there more things to discuss?"

"There is, sir, but I don't think you'd want to hear it." Secretary Tenner said grimly.

The President raised a weary brow before nodding. "What is it, Tenner?"

"Mr. President, we all know that this Gate is some kind of passageway to another world. That thing is the only thing that connects two worlds together and if there was a way to connect our worlds together…" He left it hanging until everyone's eyes widened in realization.

"It can be unmade." General Drummond concluded grimly.

Secretary Tenner nodded. "Exactly. If we do send troops there, we run the risk of stranding them there if someone or something severs the connection."

That was something the Council honestly did not consider. They did not consider the possibility that the Gate could disappear from existence and strand their many brave troops to a very hostile world. They would damn every single man and woman they send there if that happens.

"So this war was already lost the moment it started?" Secretary Eisenberg asked.

Advisor Santos sighed. "Unless we can find a way to keep that Gate open, we'll be risking the lives of thousands. We can't just solve this thing with science either because magic is something we just have no understanding about."

"Then we understand it." Director Kerstin said, making the others look at her.

"Understand it? How do you suppose we do that?"

Director Kerstin wordlessly typed on the laptop and the map zoomed into the city of Rondel. "This is the city of Rondel, it's basically a place for scholars. According to Count Formal, the city is the place where magicians learns their craft – basically, their own version of Hogwarts if you want to go into that Harry Potter stuff."

The Council considered that option and found it a viable one. If they could learn how to keep that Gate open or perhaps create their own version of the Gate, they can solidify their hold there indefinitely.

The President leaned back on his chair and thought it over. On one hand, the lives of those that were taken were his top priority and Jameson wanted them back home. The conflict itself would be easy and the US would be doing the people of Falmart a favor once they deposed the tyrannical Empire. On the other, he would be condemning thousands of American military personnel to be trapped on the other side of the Gate if the connection was ever severed.

This was a very difficult dilemma. Would he damn the few to save thousands or damn them all to be never be able to come home.

"I want a straight answer…do you think we can do it? Learn magic and keep the Gate open, I mean." President Jameson asked seriously. The lives of thousands of Americans depended on this decision.

The CIA Director was silent for a few seconds before nodding. "We can…but it will take us time to understand how it works. Time we may not have."

President Jameson frowned before looking at the Council. "We proceed as planned. I can't let those hostages suffer while we didn't do anything to save them but I also want our forces to come home. In order to do that, we must capture Rondel and learn magic. We need to act fast on this one."

While some members of the Council were not too sure about this, they knew that the President had the final say here. They could only hope that this does not become a disaster.

"Understood, sir, but you do realize the tremendous risks." General Drummond said. "If we send troops over there and the Gate closes, we'll lose much more than just the hostages."

President Jameson sighed tiredly. "I realize that, General, but we have very little choice. The public wants us to go in and the United Nations has called for an immediate emergency session in Geneva in one week. No doubt that they will want answers and ask some very uncomfortable questions that even we haven't covered yet with all of this going on. We'll proceed as planned but I want the city of Rondel captured ASAP so we can figure this out."

The General conceded with a nod. "I'll modify the battle plans, sir. I'll notify you all once we have things sorted out."

"Good, now I believe there is nothing more to discuss?" When there was none, the President nodded. "Then I guess this meeting is adjourned."

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: UNITED NATIONS OFFICE AT GENEVA**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 26, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 13:10:47**_

 _ **FIFTEEN DAYS AFTER MANHATTAN INCIDENT**_

* * *

It had been fifteen days since the completely unexpected surprise invasion of the US and its even stranger circumstances. When news of this had spread throughout the world, every nation was shocked at what just happened.

Understandably, once the US President declared that everything that was streaming in the internet was indeed true and that this enemy could bypass any defense network in world, world leaders followed the US' example of mobilizing their forces if this enemy came for them and they waited.

Thankfully, no further attacks or other similar incidents have been reported throughout the world. While the danger seems to have passed, the world was still not going to let its guard down. Nevertheless, after things had calmed down the world leaders now wanted to know what the hell just happened.

It just did not make sense to all of them. How such outlandish things could exist, they had no idea but they could not deny the evidence that has been presented to them. The death toll, the destruction, the grieving and outraged populace and even the live confession of the US President was irrefutable proof even to the staunchest of skeptics.

Now, with the world's most powerful country once again at war, the United Nations had called for an emergency session to convene about this new otherworldly problem.

Today, the members of the United Nations Security Council have convened in Geneva as the United Nations Headquarters in New York City was deemed unsafe for the time being.

The United Nations Security Council has gone through a drastic change since the Third World War. Most notably, the Russian Federation had lost its permanent seat. This was a decision that was unanimously agreed by the entire Council including Russia as it had wrought untold destruction to Europe not seen since Adolf Hitler took power. Thus this leaves the Eastern Europe regional group without a representative upon the eviction of Russian as a permanent member.

This was remedied after much discussion and deliberation that Germany would take Russia's permanent seat and represent the Eastern Europe Regional Group until such a time that Russia proved itself once again worthy of the seat that it had lost.

However, Russia was still a worthy for candidacy as a non-permanent member of the UNSC along with Egypt, Algeria and South Africa who represent the African Regional Group, Pakistan and Japan who represent the Asia-Pacific Regional Group, Venezuela and Brazil who represent the Latin American and Caribbean Regional Group, Canada and Israel who represent the Western European and Other Regional Group, and Poland represent the Eastern European Regional Group.

The US Ambassador for the United Nations, Rachelle S. Pence, an Oklahoma born woman, was conversing and preparing with her aides about how they would approach this until the Council session would start in about five minutes.

Five minutes later, a notification was sounded signaling to the delegations that the UNSC was ready to convene.

Once all the delegates were seated and ready to begin, the President of the Security Council and the representative of Egypt, Ambassador Ahmed Nadeen Mifsud, sounded the notification again and started the proceedings.

"The twelve thousand and twenty seventh meeting of the United Nations Security Council is now called to order." Ambassador Mifsud lightly tapped the ceremonial gavel onto the striking board, officially starting the session. "The provisional agenda for this meeting is: Declaration of War by the United States of America against the 'Empire'. The agenda is hereby adopted." He once again lightly tapped the ceremonial gavel. "In accordance with Rule 39 of the Security Council's provisional rules of procedure, I invite Madam Eli Thornes, Under-Secretary-General for Political Affairs, to participate in this meeting. It is so decided." He lightly tapped the ceremonial gavel again. "The Security Council will now begin its consideration of item one of the agenda. I now give the floor to Madam Eli Thornes."

With the floor now given to her, Madam Thornes cleared her throat and prepared to deliver her statements. "Mister President, members of the Security Council. Before I begin, I would like to extend my deepest and heartfelt condolences to Ambassador Pence and to the entire American people for suffering such barbarism on their shores." Ambassador Pence nodded gratefully at Madam Thornes. "According to official reports from the various news agencies of United States as well as various governmental sources states that approximately 10:26 AM Eastern Standard Time on the eleventh of May two thousand and thirty five, a mysterious structure dubbed as 'the Gate' suddenly appeared in the middle of Times Square. Initially, the nature of this structure is unknown and how it got there but before anything could be done to determine its origins, a large number of strange men and creatures emerged from the structure and proceeded to attack unarmed and innocent civilians. The assailants – formally identified as an expeditionary invasion force of the Saderan Empire – indiscriminately and brutally killed thousands of civilians and advanced onwards to capture and destroy many important landmarks including the UN Headquarters. While US forces were able to easily rout the invaders, the damage was catastrophic. According to various sources, the estimated death toll of civilians is four thousand seven hundred and forty nine and counting still from the last bits of debris being cleared out. A further fifteen thousand eight hundred and sixty nine were left injured and quite possibly traumatized for life and they have reason to believe that an estimated one hundred known civilians were captured to be sold into slavery though the number is likely to skyrocket once we have the final totals versus the number of people we can safely register as being missing. After all has been said and done, US forces have locked down the Southern half of Manhattan and guards the structure with fingers firmly on the triggers. These actions as stated above are complete and utter violations of every United Nations resolutions including various national and international laws on war and human rights. As the Saderan Empire is not of this world, it is not subject to our laws until they set foot onto Earth soil for which they have blatantly disregarded our laws in favor of their own. With this in mind and the US President's statement of how this enemy could breach any and all defense network currently employed with ease, the international community have also taken steps to prepare themselves for another possible attempt of invasion. Let us thank God, or whichever deity that the rest of the council worships, that none have occurred. Mister President, the Secretary-General has outright condemned these actions but understands that the aggressors are of a different world and as such, we have no ties to issue any talks. Nevertheless, the Secretary-General also recognizes that this act of aggression against the United States of America is tantamount to war but urges the United States to show restraint and to find a better diplomatic solution instead of conflict. Thank you."

"Thank you, Madam Thornes, for your briefing. Now I must call upon the representative of the US, Rachelle S. Pence, to brief us on what has been done so far and what they have and we shall learn. Ambassador Pence, you now have the floor." Ambassador Mifsud nodded to Ambassador Pence.

The US ambassador mentally prepared herself before facing the Council. What she was going to say would either make the Council support her country's efforts or condemn it.

"Thank you, Mr. President and thank you for allowing this meeting. Also, thank you Madam Thornes for your kind words. I am sure the American people appreciate it." She gave Madam Thornes a grateful smile which she returned before clearing her throat. "When this attempted invasion first occurred, the Chain of Command of the US government was left in a state of shock, myself included. For seventeen years, our world has known peace and have focused our efforts to rebuild after the devastation of the Third World War but I fear that our peace has been taken from us. As of now, we have no solid information about the Saderan Empire as they are not of our world and those that we do have are obtained from those that have surrendered – rest assured that those prisoners have been treated humanely and are given basic necessities that a normal human being would require. One such prisoner, Count Colt Fortunato Umbrius Formal, is the most cooperative and has given us all that we would need to know about the Empire." At this, she stopped to take a drink of some water while looking at the reactions from the other nations that were beginning to murmur and whisper to each other. Thankfully, none of them were pleased by what happened but some looked thoughtful at the fact that one of the Empire's generals would go turncoat so easily.

"The Saderan Empire is a pre-industrial, militaristic, autocratic and hegemonic state ruled by an Emperor, Molt Sol Augustus, and controls much of the continent of Falmart, a land mass roughly the size of Eurasia. The Saderan Empire's political structure greatly resembles that of Ancient Rome but its cultures is a mixture of Ancient Roman and Medieval customs as such, we assume that to be the case for most parts. With this is mind, we also understand that the practices of slavery and other similar acts are common place there. Count Formal has given us an example of this. Just a few years ago, the Empire waged a war against three races: the Lagoans, Lupins, and Macskans with the intent of subjugating then into slavery. Unfortunately they were successful and many members of those races were subjected to horrendous treatment. Fortunately, some have found refuge in the lands of Count Formal who generously allowed them to set up a new home in his lands. Though the Count had to essentially purchase them all so they could not be hounded by any Imperial slavers, costing him much of his fortune but he did not regret it." Once again, she paused and looked at the outraged faces once slavery was mentioned. Taking in a deep breath, she pushed forward onto the part that everyone REALLY wanted to know.

"Their military strength has been estimated to be roughly equal to Ancient Rome at her peak – over seven hundred thousand. The Empire also has an unknown number of vassal states from which it can call for further support but we have been informed that there are five states that they could call on for assistance: the Kingdoms of Elbe, Mudwan, Alguna, Toumaren, and the Principality of Ligu. The Count has stated that the five states combined could field up to two hundred thousand personnel; meaning that the Empire has just under a million troops to fall back on. However, it would seem that the Empire frequently abuses its power and demands exorbitant tributes from its subordinate states and limit their freedom. As such, we have come to the conclusion that the Saderan Empire is a tyrannical form of government that rules through fear and oppression of its own people." With this bit of information, she could now see their fear. A lot of the larger nations knew that they could not hold back what equated to well over a million troops going into their homelands if a Gate appeared out of thin air. The smaller nations knew that they would just be outright screwed. Now she just had to deliver the hook and she would have them baited.

"Members of the Security Council, words cannot describe what we are feeling. This enemy is nothing like we have ever faced before. True, we hold an astronomical advantage in technology but they have something that we do not: magic. I know this is something that is terribly hard to believe but we have all seen the evidence right before our very eyes. As such, we must tread carefully. Nevertheless…I must also emphasize that this is not just an attack on the United States but also to all of humanity. Regardless of how human these Saderans may appear, they came from an unknown world and – of their own will – invaded our world to subjugate us. This is not just a declaration of war against the United States but also our entire species as human beings. Thank you."

The Security Council discussed back and forth for hours until it was time that the President of the session called for a vote of whether or not they recognize the United States' position in its war and support it or not. "To all those in favor, please raise your hand." Ambassador Mifsud and all of the Council raised their hands. "The result of the voting is as follows: with a vote of fifteen, the United Nations Security Council recognizes and accepts the United States of America's position in this war, and offers our support against these aggressors."

For the first time in human history, the world was united against a common enemy.

Though once that vote was over, new questions sprung and the inevitability of human greed would shine through. It all started when the member for Brazil, Ms. Isabela Barbosa stood up.

"The Council acknowledges the representative of Brazil, Ambassador Isabela Barbosa. Do you have any questions?" The President asked.

Ms. Barbosa nodded. "Yes I do. While I agree that this is something unprecedented and definitely a large threat to all of us, I look further into the future. Rather, I look towards what happens at the end of all of this. The United States goes in, gets revenge and then what? We leave the Empire a jumbled mess with no leadership and letting anarchy reign? We leave a thriving planet without guidance? More importantly, do we leave widows and children to grow up wanting revenge and possibly opening up another Gate when we least expect it decades from now?"

It was a very valid question and one that sent ripples across the other nations as they looked at each other with apprehension clear on their faces.

"Furthermore, we have to acknowledge the fact that when we go onto their land, in their world, we no longer operate under any kind of laws, both to the United States and the United Nations as a whole, just like how the Empire is not subject to any of our laws until they stepped foot into our world. To summarize, we NEED oversight on this and to not let the United States run roughshod over this. This is not to say that I do not doubt their integrity. Yet, we cannot deny the possibility of just having American troops on the other side of the Gate sending a message to those that live on the other side says about the rest of us as a United Nation."

The US Ambassador narrowed her eyes with a multitude of emotions flashing through them. Hurt, anger, frustration and most importantly, betrayal. She knew Barbosa was flashing out a lot of fancy words and stoking up fear for one reason and one reason only: resources.

Despite many environmental laws going into effect after World War Three, everybody knew it was a case of too little, too late. The polar ice caps were almost at dangerously low levels and world-wide flooding would be guaranteed by the end of the century depending on how weather conditions went.

It also did not help that a lot of the Earth's natural resources such as oil, coal, gold, silver and other such materials were getting harder and harder to find without cutting down entire forests and protected landmasses. The Empire, being pre-industrial revolution had no such issues.

Now it was just a matter of how that possible pie of an entirely second world could be cut up amongst the third and second world countries that were getting by on what scraps that they had left on them. They did not want the United States having a monopoly on all of that.

Taking in a deep breath, the US Ambassador prepared herself for the barrage of new questions that would be sent her way and was ready to take on all of them. For the fallen…for the future.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **All right, third chapter. Now before anyone gets a little bit uppity about thing, I'd just like to explain a few things. I know Russia is a permanent member of the United Nations Security Council and it's incredibly hard to have that revoked – hard but not impossible. I don't know about you but starting World War 3 and contaminating Europe's cities, and killing millions of people are pretty good grounds on having that permanent membership revoked.**_

 _ **For that humanity coming together, technically speaking, the Saderans – no matter if they look human – are an alien race being from another world. This is not just an attack on the US but also humanity as well. At least that's how I see it and I think that really describes the title. World vs world. Of course, with our world being all messed up as it is, there will be others that will be aiming to exploit this new world.**_

 _ **For the US figuring out that the Gate is temporary, it's just logical. Magic is something that no one could understand here and they know that they could not take any chances. This is something that I neglected and some stories too. This is something that should've been tackled early on.**_

 _ **Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed and a Merry Christmas to all!**_

* * *

 _ **US National Security Council**_

 _ **US President – Charles D. Jameson**_

 _ **US Vice President – Barbara C. Krantz**_

 _ **Secretary of State – Rebecca J. Keaton**_

 _ **Secretary of Defense – Chester E. Tenner**_

 _ **Secretary of Energy – David L. Williams**_

 _ **Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff – Jerald T. Drummond**_

 _ **Director of National Intelligence – Terrence J. Cooper**_

 _ **National Security Advisor – Jeffrey K. Santos**_

 _ **Deputy National Security Advisor – Dinah H. Waddell**_

 _ **Homeland Security Advisor – Steven O. Serrano**_

 _ **Attorney General – Robert C. DeGuerin**_

 _ **White House Chief of Staff – Todd J. Garcia**_

 _ **Ambassador to the United Nations –**_ _ **Rachelle S. Pence**_

 _ **Director of the CIA – Samantha E. Kerstin**_

 _ **Secretary of**_ _ **the Treasury – Emilia S. Eisenberg**_

* * *

 _ **United Nations Security Council Structure and Representatives**_

 _ **Permanent Members**_ _ **:**_

 _ **United States of America – AMB Rachelle S. Pence**_

 _ **People's Republic of China – AMB Jun Liang**_

 _ **The United Kingdom**_ _ **of Great Britain and Northern Ireland – AMB Angelina Marie O'Connor**_

 _ **The French Republic – AMB Évelyne Rosalie Hachette**_

 _ **The Federal Republic of Germany – AMB Stefan Moeller**_

 _ **Non-Permanent Members**_ _ **:**_

 _ **The Arab Republic of Egypt – AMB Ahmed Nadeen Mifsud**_

 _ **The People's Democratic Republic of Algeria – AMB Farook Belloumi**_

 _ **The Republic of South Africa – AMB**_ _ **Jonathan Dladla**_

 _ **Japan – AMB Ishimoto Hisashi**_

 _ **The Islamic Republic of Pakistan – AMB Rakhshan Jafari**_

 _ **The**_ _ **Federative Republic of Brazil – AMB**_ _ **Isabela Barros Barbosa**_

 _ **The Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela – AMB Rolando Dávalos**_

 _ **Canada – AMB Jason Pierre Chiasson**_

 _ **The State of Israel – AMB Isaac Shahar**_

 _ **The Republic of Poland – AMB Julian Patryk Kogutowicz**_

 _ **Additional Participants**_ _ **:**_

 _ **Under-Secretary-General of Political Affairs – Madam Eli Thornes**_

* * *

 _ **UNSC Presidency**_

 _ **The Islamic Republic of Pakistan – January**_

 _ **The Republic of Poland – February**_

 _ **The People's Democratic Republic of Algeria – March**_

 _ **Canada – April**_

 _ **The Arab Republic of Egypt – May**_

 _ **The Federal Republic of Germany – June**_

 _ **The United Kingdom**_ _ **of Great Britain and Northern Ireland – July**_

 _ **The Republic of South Africa – August**_

 _ **Japan – September**_

 _ **United States of America – October**_

 _ **People's Republic of China – November**_

 _ **The French Republic – December**_

* * *

 _ **Alguna – Spanish**_

 _ **Toumarem – Portuguese?**_

 _ **Ligu or Ligio – Italian**_

 _ **Elbe – German**_

 _ **Mudwan – Persian**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Special thanks to Cloud Link Zero and Trainalf for once again helping me with this story. And to all the viewers out there. Also, there's a part here you may not enjoy so advance warning.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter IV – Hoc Est Bellum**_

* * *

" _They say truth is the first casualty of war." – Gen. John Price_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SADERA – IMPERIAL CAPITAL**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 06, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 08:36:53**_

 _ **FIFTEEN DAYS AFTER THE IMPERIAL INVASION THROUGH THE GATE**_

* * *

Sadera, the crown jewel and the seat of power of the mighty Saderan Empire – it was here upon this vast stretch of land did the Saderans' ancestors laid the foundations from which the Empire grew to what it is today. For centuries, this has been the home of this great Empire since its conception and at the center of the city, atop the highest hill, laid the home of the Emperor himself.

The Main Imperial Palace is the home of the most powerful man in the Empire, Molt Sol Augustus. He held nearly uncontested power in ruling Empire with only the Imperial Senate having the power to overrule him.

Located below the hill are smaller palaces of the Imperial family, including the South Palace, home of Molt's eldest son and heir apparent to take his place as Emperor, Prince Zorzal El Caesar.

To the North of the Imperial Palace and located near the Temple to the God lay the Azure Palace, home of Prince Diabo El Caesar. Diabo was Molt's second eldest son from a different woman and is second in line for the throne should anything unfortunate to happen to Zorzal.

To the East of the Imperial Palace lay the mansion of Princess Piña Co Lada, Molt's daughter from one his many concubines but he surprisingly recognized her as his legitimate child and placed her tenth in the line of succession.

Further to the West of the Palace was the Imperial Senate Building. It is located in a prominent location in Sadera near a large forum or a market place, and the entire structure is constructed of white marble with numerous ornately carved columns and sculptures on both the interior and exterior. This is where numerous Imperial Senators and the Emperor himself meet in order to pass new laws and legislations.

Surrounding these structures were the residential and commercial areas of the city. These sections were separated from the Imperial Complexes by walls and each section was also separated by walls. Located at the South Eastern section of the city was the district of Akusho, a place where rape, poverty, and crime are a common occurrence. This district is ruled by the four crime families of Akusho: Gonzori, Medusa, Paramount, and Bessara. It was so bad there that even the Imperial Army would think twice before entering the district other than to spend some gold and enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.

The city's water comes from multiple aqueducts. Overall, the architecture of the city has an appearance similar to that of ancient Rome, including common use of large marble structures, including columns, domes, and statues. Truly, one may say that Sadera is very reminiscent to Ancient Rome.

In the main throne room of the Imperial Palace, the Emperor himself, Molt Sol Augustus, was sitting comfortably on his throne as he enjoyed the precious tranquility this day has graciously afforded him. There was no one else with him there save for a small contingent of his elite Imperial Guards. He tolerates their presence because they know better than to disturb him and they mostly keep quiet.

If Molt was being honest with himself, life as the Emperor was excellent. He held almost uncontested power over his subjects with only the Imperial Senate as whole having enough power to challenge his word but even still, he had the final say in things.

Molt took a deep breath before releasing it, reminiscing about the Saderan Empire's long history which spanned more than a thousand years – even before the Empire's birth. In the beginning, the beast-men and demi-humans had dominated these lands with the humans cowering in fear. It was almost pitiful to think about it but what could their ancestors do? Then salvation came when Molt's honored ancestor and first emperor of the Saderan Empire, Titus the Great, rallied the humans and waged a victorious war against the non-humans and laid the very foundations that would eventually lead to the birth of the Empire.

Since then, the Saderan Empire has been the most dominant power of Falmart and is still expanding to this day with the various kingdoms and races being subject to their rules whether they liked it or not.

Molt felt pride in himself that since he assumed the throne, the Empire's power, influence, and territory had grown exponentially under his effective leadership. Of course, there were some senators and nobles that disapproved of his methods but he rarely paid them any attention. They do now know that above all else, the Empire was the priority and the people were second.

He also knew that even with all that Molt has accomplished, he was still a mortal man nearing his end. The Emperor released a silent breath; it was a real shame that even with the use of magic – specifically necromancy –achieving immortality was nearly impossible. Those who chased such an endeavor had received nothing but utter failure at best and the wrath of the Gods themselves at worst.

Molt may be an ambitious man but even he knew not to challenge the Gods.

It was a hard pill to swallow but he took comfort that his name will be remembered throughout the ages as one of the greatest Emperors of all times. Of course there is the question of who will succeed him in ruling the Empire.

The first and most obvious choice would be his eldest son, Prince Zorzal El Caesar, but he was starting to doubt that choice. His eldest son was narcissistic, hedonistic, prone to violence, and had an unrealistic sense of entitlement and a need to be adored. The most glaring example was his useless and totally unnecessary campaign against the Lagoans, Lupins, and Macskans just so satisfy his carnal desires and his ego.

Although that may be the pot calling the kettle black as Molt himself ordered the conquest of much of the continent but it was one campaign at a time. Molt was no fool to think that the Empire could take on the whole of Falmart. As powerful as they had become, the beast-men and demi human races still outnumbered them and were their superior when it came to physical attributes and magical abilities. That is why the Emperor knew that he had to take his time in the conquest of Falmart.

What Zorzal did was downright idiotic in taking on three of the most savage races at the same time even if they were victorious.

On the plus side, the Saderans did win and subjugated what was left of those races but on the down side, it came at a very great cost. They lost almost two legions all because of Zorzal's abysmal leadership skills. They only won because of the brilliance of one of their most skilled and accomplished commanders, Imperial Legate Woldemar Vi Meridius, the supreme commander of Imperial Legions in the North.

If it was not for Imperial Legate Meridius, they the Imperial Army's loses would have been even more catastrophic but instead of being honored, Zorzal became jealous of Meridius' successes and took credit for his accomplishments and discredited the General with many officers and some senators supporting the Crown Prince's claims.

This move was not well received by the legions of the Imperial Army as the men admired Meridius' as a brilliant commander and some threatened to rise up arms in defense of Woldemar. It has gotten so bad that Molt himself had to step in to restore order.

In the end, Molt had to strip Woldemar of his position of Imperial Legate and was demoted to the rank of Legion Legate. This decision satisfied his son but left the Army with a bitter taste in their mouth especially since Meridius' replacement's performance was…sub-par to say the least.

Molt felt disappointed in his son. Even though they won a war against three races and subjugated them regardless of the losses; due to Zorzal's pettiness, he was forced to remove one of their best commanders from his post.

Since then, Zorzal showed no improvement in his actions whatsoever; opting to spend his time fucking the former queen of the Lagoans, Tyuule, and wasting away in vices.

If he could, Molt could have Zorzal removed as the Crown Prince but who would replace him? Perhaps his second eldest son, Diabo, would make for a suitable heir?

Yes, Diabo would make a far better heir than Zorzal. His way of thinking was just like Molt's own – realistic, pragmatic, and Diabo has proven himself as one of the most intelligent members of the Royal Family with a talent for politics.

His only flaw was his tendency to over think things through and can be a bit paranoid. That could cause problems because his over thinking may lead to many inactions and his paranoia could lead him to not trusting many people. Well, Molt did not really trust many people even those from within his inner circle.

Nevertheless, Diabo was a much more viable candidate than Zorzal could ever be but there was still one more who could be even more worthy to take the throne than Diabo – Molt's dear daughter, Piña Co Lada.

Molt could not keep a miniscule amused smile forming on his lips. Piña was born from a concubine named Countess Nell whom he met many years ago. He can say without a shadow of a doubt that Countess Nell was one of the most beautiful creatures the Emperor had ever laid his eyes upon and sought to win her affections and in their union, she bore him his fifth child; a daughter they named Piña Co Lada.

He loved Piña as much as any father would his daughter and Molt did not hesitate to include her into the line of succession with Piña being tenth in line.

Piña possessed a keen intellect though not as potent as Diabo's own; she is incredibly smart and wise beyond her years. She also had the rare ability instill loyalty from various people as well. This quality is evident from when she founded her own order of knights, the Rose-Order of Knights. Molt may consider his daughter's order as a child's fantasy and typically has them serve as honor guards; he cannot deny that Piña had inspired a group of noble girls that would usually not take up the responsibilities of a knight into a disciplined and highly trained order. He should know; they were trained by some of the most skilled and honored knights and warriors including Grey and Meridius.

These qualities were the hallmarks of a great future leader and Molt felt that out of all his children, Piña would make a fine Empress. If only Zorzal shared both of Diabo and Piña's qualities.

Deciding that he had thought enough about who would succeed him, Molt shook his head slightly and rolled his shoulders. Sitting in an over glorified chair for a long time can leave you feeling stiff after all. Perhaps it was better to think about the newest and probably the most important development in his rule.

For the first time in over a thousand years, the sacred Gate of Alnus Hill had opened. He did know why the gods would open the Gate. Even though almost all of the inhabitants of Falmart view Alnus Hill as scared ground, Molt saw an opportunity.

He knew the myths concerning the Gate; about how every time the Gate has opened, it leads to a new world. He saw it as a blessing from the gods that the Empire's domain would not only be confined to the continent of Falmart but also to another world.

So, with that in mind, Molt took the initiative and sent seven legions numbering over forty thousand men under the command of Imperial Legate Tertius Sennius Siricus to conquer the lands beyond the Gate and claim them in the name of the Saderan Empire. With the suddenness of the attack, the Emperor was sure that Tertius' forces would encounter little to no resistance and even if they did, the confusion wrought from the sudden invasion would allow them time to consolidate their strength. That was a little over fifteen days ago and that was more than enough time for Tertius to secure a foothold beyond the Gate.

Molt would be lying if he was not expecting a messenger detailing the success of the campaign. Unknown to the Emperor, he would indeed be receiving a message from his forces beyond the Gate this day. Alas, it was not one of success but one of total defeat.

Molt was broken from his musings when the doors of the throne room opened. The Imperial Guards tensed up, ready to defend their Lord but relaxed when they saw that it was Internal Minister, Marcus Co Osment.

Of all the people serving in Molt's government, Marcus was probably the only one the Emperor trusted wholly. The Emperor raised a brow when he took note of Marcus' worried expression but decided against asking about it for now.

" _Internal Minister Marcus, to what do I owe your visit?"_ Molt asked as his retainer kneeled before him once he was close to him.

" _Forgive me for disturbing you, Your Majesty. But I bring news of great importance."_ The Emperor hummed and waved his hand for Marcus to continue. _"A group of soldiers – some in very grave conditions – claiming to be from the expeditionary force we sent through the Gate has just arrived, my lord, and they bring very grave news. So grave in fact that it was prudent that you hear it immediately."_

Hearing this, Molt frowned. He was expecting to hear that their expeditionary force was doing some tremendous progress. The Emperor would like to hear some good news and that Tertius has already secured a sizeable patch of territory as a foothold as he anticipated. However, hearing the urgency in Marcus' voice was an indication that something had gone very wrong.

" _What do they have to say?"_ The Emperor asked.

Marcus nodded as he stood up. _"Your Majesty, the entirety of the expeditionary force we sent – a total of seven legions has been defeated. Nay, they were slaughtered to the last man."_

The Imperial Guards with them stiffened and paled at the news. They could not believe that seven legions of their army could be annihilated just like that. Even the normally stoic Emperor Molt widened his eyes at the news. This was indeed a grave matter and he motioned the Internal Minister to explain in detail.

" _According to them, everything was going as expected."_ Marcus began. _"They reached the other side of the Gate and immediately took on the offensive; killing anyone that stood in their way, taking captives and treasures, and Imperial Legate Siricus proclaiming the Empire's dominion over those lands."_

Emperor Molt nodded but he could not lose sight of what has truly happened over such honeyed words. There must have been more to it than that.

Seeing that he may continue, the Internal Minister did so. _"As our forces were advancing, some took note of these new strange lands. The men told me that all around them, they were surrounded by great structures of immense size - some even claiming that some of those structures were even grander than our own and they reached as far as the eye could see. Those buildings also employed some kind of light and illusion magic."_

Molt frowned even more than he was. If he would believe what his Retainer was saying to him then this new civilization had the capacity to build massive buildings that dwarfed even the largest structures the Empire has and could use magic on an incredible scale. It would seem that whatever lay beyond the Gate was not a savage civilization like he had expected and he cursed himself for that.

" _What happened next?"_ Molt urged on.

" _The army was making progress but they encountered stiff resistance from what appeared to be militia but they were few in comparison and our forces were able to push them back with sheer numbers alone. But the strange part is that the opposition possessed strange crossbows or staves that could use some kind of small explosive magic that our armor could not defend against. Our forces suffered tremendous casualties in their advance. Even the beastmen fell to these strange weapons."_

Now Molt could see how dire the situation had been. If he was not being mislead then every member or a substantial number of them at least, of this new civilization could wield magic and they were just mere militia. He could only imagine how much more powerful their own army was.

" _And?"_

" _Tertius' forces were able to advance just a few kilometers until the enemy's army came. The men described the vanguard flying over their heads in a flock of great metal birds or dragons."_ Marcus said that had the Emperor and the Imperial Guards looking curious. _"The soldiers say that those iron beasts had a distinct sound: their wing beats were like the roars of thunder. Some of those irons monsters then turned their attention to our legions and spewed fire and burned them to a crisp. Some tried to run but only very few escaped the carnage."_

The Emperor clenched his jaw. This new enemy reacted to their surprise attack quickly and what is more, they had control of flying iron monsters that possessed the power to decimate his legions. Just what kind of place did that Gate opened up to?

" _With the help of those flying iron beasts, our forces were being slaughtered and pushed back. Even our elite dragon riders proved no match for those things."_ Marcus said worryingly, a sentiment shared by the others. _"But before Tertius could launch a counter attack, the enemy's army – the survivors speculate that this isn't even close to their full strength – suddenly appeared and with them came iron monsters that could spew powerful fire magic that can destroy anything, soldiers with staves that could shred through our strongest armor and shields like they were mere parchment paper, and magic that could decimate entire formations to bloody bits and pieces. They've reported that a single cohort that met only six of these soldiers in battle and when they came back, only six returned and they were in horrendous condition. Some had limbs torn off and others were carrying the severed bodies of their comrades and of their own. Mere minutes later, most of the legions have already been killed and their iron dragons were attacking the main camp and killing everything that moved with the enemy's army not too far behind. With no other choice left, some soldiers gathered up whatever treasures and captives they could and retreated back through the Gate."_ The internal Minister let out a shaky breath. _"Out of the forty thousand men we sent in, only seventeen legionaries made it back. With seven legions lost, this is the single most devastating defeat in the Empire's history, your Grace."_

As Marcus finished his report, Molt leaned back in his chair as he took it all in. Indeed, losing seven legions soon after an attempted invasion was a devastating and utterly humiliating defeat. With the loss of so many men, their military strength took a very serious blow and if this got out to the other kingdoms and races, they may see it that the Empire had grown weak and plan a revolt. He would have to plan accordingly for that eventuality but now, he had an even bigger problem to address.

There was no way to deny it; Molt had tried to invade an extremely powerful civilization. A civilization that could wield magic of incredible power and at an unparalleled scale, command iron beasts that rule the skies and the earth, had the capacity to construct massive structures that tower over everything they had, and who knows what else they could be capable of. If that is so then Molt had a very serious problem if that civilization decided to retaliate which is almost certain.

He needed to do something about this and he needed to do it fast before this mysterious and powerful nation begins marching to the capital and destroys everything the Empire stands for and everything he helped create.

The Emperor then realized something. _"Minister, did you say those men brought back some captives?"_ He asked.

" _Yes, your majesty. The surviving soldiers brought back thirty one captives – all of them varying in shape, size, and skin color. I admit that I mistook some of them as Dark Elves but I was mistaken for they are indeed human. They also brought with them some strange artifacts and what seems liked some weapons of this new enemy."_

Molt nodded, this could help them get some insight with regards to this new and powerful foe. _"Have our mages probe the minds of the captives and examine those artifacts. They might tell us who the Empire will face and crush. I expect them to yield results by the time the emergency senatorial session commences which will take place in two hours. And make sure to summon Legion Legate Meridius as well. We may need him for this new enemy."_

Marcus bowed. _"As you wish, your highness. I will inform Grand Magister Direlus of his new task and send some of the captives and artifacts his way for examination and mind probing. I will prepare the members of the Senate for the emergency session. I will also summon Meridius here as I believe he is currently in the city."_

" _Very good."_ Molt nodded. _"You may go, my friend. And arrange for the surviving soldiers to be treated. We will need all who can hold a sword in these trying times."_

" _Yes, my lord."_ With that, Marcus turned and left the throne room.

The moment Marcus left; the Emperor leaned back on his throne and contemplated this new development. Truly, he had not counted his army to be beaten so easily but it was something that he should have foreseen as a possibility. As much as he loathes admitting it, he was sure there were many civilizations out there that would be more than a match for his Empire. It was only right to think that because their world is vast and largely unexplored. It stands that his assumption held truth and that was one of the reasons why Molt was doing all he could to strengthen the Saderan Empire.

He should have known that this also applied to other worlds as well. Molt made a mistake in underestimating the world beyond the Gate and he has now made an enemy of what seemed like a monster of a country. If he was willing to bet, this shall be the greatest threat the Empire would ever face.

Molt hummed. _'There is no denying it – war is one the horizon; the likes of which no man, woman, or child in Falmart has ever seen before. But no matter what kind of enemy we will face, the Empire will stand the victor. As it always had and as it always will.'_

Yes, this would be the war of wars but Molt knew that the Empire had the home field advantage and hundreds of thousands of warriors ready to defend the Empire. This new enemy may command monsters of the air and earth, but they had the grace of the gods.

The Saderan Empire will reign victorious and prove why they were the most dominant force of this world or any other world.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: ELBE KINGDOM CAPITAL – OBERNDORF**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 06, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 08:49:13**_

* * *

Located in the southern part of the continent of Falmart, the kingdom of Elbe is one of the vassal states of the Saderan Empire and out of all the vassal states, Elbe could be considered as the most powerful with the economic and military power to back that claim up. That was why, the other vassal states look at the Elbe Kingdom as their de facto leader.

The history of the Elbe Kingdom spans for centuries, not long after the conception of the Empire. In fact, it all started when the great warrior and commander, Lars the Brave, led his army and drove their enemies out of that area. Titus the Great was impressed with his service and loyalty that he gave Lars dominion over that region which would become the Elbe Kingdom.

The Kingdom has been a staunch supporter of the Empire for generations but the Saderan Empire began to abuse their powers over them and the other vassal states. In hind sight, this was to be expected. The Saderans stood unopposed since its formation centuries ago and their hubris and delusions of invincibility began to make them arrogant.

Still, that does not excuse what they were doing to everyone else.

In the city of Oberndorf, the capital of the Elbe Kingdom, its current ruler, King Eckhart Brauer Duran, stood on the balcony of his throne room. King Duran is a man in his late 60's. He has dark grey hair as well as grey eyes though he lost his left eye in a previous battle decades ago so he wears an eye patch over it.

Though he may be old, do not let his age fool you. King Duran is one of the most ferocious warriors alive and is a proven military commander. His prowess has earned him the moniker as the Lion of Elbe with some even comparing him to the feared Imperial commander, Legion Legate Woldemar Vi Meridius.

King Duran looked over the beautiful site of his kingdom with a feeling of contentment. His people were happy and his domain was flourishing considering the circumstances. That was all her ever wanted, really. For his people and lands to flourish but that proves to be difficult with the Saderans meddling in everything and taking almost everything they worked for and leaving only scraps.

Sometimes, King Duran wondered when and how did the Empire turned out like this. Once, the Empire was formed after Titus the Great united all the humans to fight back against their enemies. Since then, the Empire stood for honor, courage, and unity. Now every time he thinks of the Empire, he thinks of oppression, corruption, warmongering, and arrogance.

Of course, this did not mean that every Saderan was like that. There were still some good people there who still lived by those principles like his oldest and best friend, Count Colt Fortunato Umbrius Formal, Marquis Casel El Tiberius, Princess Piña Co Lada and her knights, and Legion Legate Woldemar Vi Meridius along with the leaders of the vassal states.

Many times, Duran had entertained the idea of raising a revolt against the Empire but every time, he dismissed those thoughts. As celebrated as he is as a warrior and commander, he knew that the Saderans would defeat them even if the armies of Elbe, Ligu, Mudwan, Alguna, and Toumaren were to join forces through sheer numbers alone.

Not to mention that the Saderans would seek terrible vengeance upon their people for such a treasonous act. Even the Lion of Elbe shuddered to think what their soldiers would do to his people and he knew the kind of atrocities they were capable of. One just needs to look at what they did to the Lagoans, Lupins, and Macskans to get a very clear idea.

Deciding that it would be better to change the subject of thinking, King Duran thought about this new and most interesting development. For the first time in ages, the Gate had opened once again. If he was completely honest with himself, the King never thought that something like this would happen in his lifetime and he had seen some pretty weird things.

Like many others, he was curious at where the Gate would lead to but was also afraid at that prospect. For all he knew, the Gate could lead to a very nasty place where the air was poisonous and everything was out to kill them. So, he decided that it was probably for the best to observe the Gate and watch for anything that comes through it.

Unfortunately, the Saderan Empire did not share his concerns and had sent an invasion force composed of seven legions through to conquer to the lands beyond. King Duran could not even begin to list the reasons on how this was an incredibly dangerous and stupid idea but there was little the King could do at this point.

Honestly, he could not care less what the Saderans found there but he was worried for his friend, Count Formal. He had heard rumors that Colt had been called into service and assist in the expedition and invasion. He knew Colt would never do this kind of thing willingly; he would only do this so he could keep the Imperial Courts off his back.

King Duran hoped that those rumors were not true but he knew better than to cling on to such hope. If Colt dies, he would be leaving his young daughter and people behind…and who knows what would happen to them without Colt's leadership.

Just then, King Duran's attention was called when a messenger came before him and kneeled respectfully. _"Forgive me, my lord, but I bring a message bearing Clan Formal's seal."_ He presented Duran with a letter that indeed bore the seal of Clan Formal.

King Duran nodded. _"Thank you, my boy."_ He said, grabbing the letter from the messengers hand before dismissing him. Once the messenger was out of sight, he looked at the letter in his hands.

He had a pretty good feeling about what this letter was going to say and he knew that he would not like it but it was better to get it over with now. Breaking the seal and opening up the letter, he began to read its content.

 **Dear King Eckhart Brauer Duran,**

 **If you are reading this, then that would mean that I have been called on to accompany the Saderans through the Gate. I know that when you heard of the news of the Gate reopening after countless generations, you were surprised beyond belief. I must admit, I felt the same way as well. I would have preferred that I stay home and be with my people and precious Myui but we all know what would happen to them if I refused their calls. My friend, know that I do not take pleasure in what I and my men would be forced to do in this invasion. I hope the gods will forgive me for what I will have to do. And if anything should happen to me, I beg of you. Please, take care of my precious Myui and my people. They will need someone to lead them and Myui someone to call father again.**

 **My friend, I do not need to tell you that should Molt's little invasion fails that you and the rest should keep their ears and eyes open. No doubt that by the time this letter has reached you, rumors have already begun to spread of our success or failure. Do not believe everything Molt asks of you all at that point. If he asks you to assemble your armies and march to Alnus hill, then something has gone wrong and needs you to clean it up. Bear in mind that this might be a ploy to destroy you somehow. All I ask is for you and everyone to take every detail into account and not make any unnecessary conclusions that may endanger you and your peoples.**

 **If all goes well here, I and my men will return home. If not…well, it has been a pleasure, King Duran.**

 **Your friend,**

 **Count Colt Fortunato Umbrius Formal**

After reading the letter for a second time, Duran let out a sigh. His worries were confirmed and Colt had joined the Saderans on their foolish quest but not by his own volition.

He would pray to the gods that Colt would come back alive but in the event that he would not…

On his honor as the King of Elbe, as a friend and as a man, he swore that he would take care of Myui and Colt's people. It was the least he could do for him.

Still, Duran would take his words to heart. The King of Elbe would never fully trust the words of Molt even on his best days. Even now, there were small rumors going about that soldiers from the invasion force had come through carrying slaves and spoils of war but they were in horrible condition.

Duran did not know what to make of it but he would not dismiss those rumors just yet. He would need to verify this himself through his informants within the Saderan Capital. If something is going to happen, then the King of Elbe wanted to know everything about it and share it with his fellow kings. No doubt they would appreciate the heads up.

Nevertheless…he did not know why but King Duran just had this gut feeling that things were about to change.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SADERA – IMPERIAL CAPITAL**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 06, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 09:01:02**_

* * *

Located in one of the military barracks of the capital were three caged wagons under heavy guard and within those wagons were the battered and terrified American civilians…or what was left of them. There had been almost a fifty of them but being forced to walk the whole way to this godforsaken place couple with their some severe injuries and the sadistic abuse of their captors had killed many of them. Now only thirty one civilians were left.

Among them were a mother and daughter, Megan L. Hopkins, a thirty three year old single mother and her daughter, Emily, a ten year old girl.

When the time of the attack came, the two were just out having an off day from work and school from their home in the Bronx. Megan wanted to treat her daughter and visit some wonderful planes in Manhattan like the Central Park Zoo and perhaps watch a movie together. Anything to make her daughter happy especially since her husband had left them hanging after running off with some prostitute.

That left them both devastated but Megan pulled herself together; if not for herself then for her daughter. Her baby girl needed her to be strong

A few moments before the surprise attack, the two were enjoying lunch at a sushi restaurant named Blue Fin near Time Square – Emily had inherited her mother's love for sushi especially the spicy kind. Just then, they heard people screaming outside and before they knew it, some kind of monster had burst into the restaurant and started killing the occupants there.

Megan began to panic before she threw herself and her daughter over the counter and took cover behind it. She held her Emily close, trying to block out her ears so she did not have to hear the dying screams of the people, the tearing of flesh, the crushing of bones, and the chewing sounds as they were literally being eaten.

After a few minutes of hiding, she heard some footsteps coming into the restaurant and Megan thought that it was the police but she heard him talking in something other than English and Megan instantly knew that this was not the police and tried to hide even further.

Luck had unfortunately run out on them as a pair of hands reached over the counter and grabbed her by the hair and forced them out of their hiding spot. Megan tearfully begged for them to let her and her daughter go but they did not listen and dumped them with the others they captured as well. There could not have been over two hundred civilians that were captured.

Megan tried to console her distraught daughter; that help would come for them and her prayers were indeed answered as they heard the familiar sounds of helicopters flying overhead and she and the rest of the captured civilians cheered that their armed forces had finally come to their rescue.

The mother thought that she, her daughter, and everyone else with them were going to be saved but those hopes were dashed when some men came and threw some of them into their slave wagons and ran back to whatever hole they crawled out of in a desperate bid to escape the vengeful wrath of the United States Military – with Megan and young Emily in tow.

Megan did not know how long they had travelled for she had lost count of how many days had passed but their captors were brutal and sadistic. Often beating her fellow Americans to a bloody pulp and forcing them to walk until their legs gave out and when that happens, these… _men_ would tie them up to their horses and drag them on the dirt until they were dead or shredded.

Some of them even took one or two women from the cages when they were resting for the night. Megan could only cover her daughter's ears as he heard them viciously rape those girls all night long. Their cruel treatment continued on for days until the two women were finally broken shells.

Megan was holding onto her daughter protectively as she whispered words of comfort and they were going to be rescued from this horrid place but the woman regrettably knew that if they were going to get rescued, it would take a long time for that to happen.

The girl was clinging onto her mother, looking fearfully at the men guarding their cages. "Mom…I-I want to go home." Emily sobbed as she stared fearfully at the outside.

"Shh, be quiet, Emily." Megan told her daughter softly, not wanting to gain these men's attention. "I know, baby, but we have to be patient. Help will come for us, I promise."

Emily sniffled and looked at her mother. "…B-But…when…who?"

Megan gave her little girl a small smile and softly raked her hands through her daughter's hair. "Just trust me. Okay?" To give her daughter more encouragement and hope, she kissed her on the forehead and they huddled together but even she knew that if – and that is a big IF – help did come, it would be months before that happened. If she and her daughter were to survive, they would have to attract as little as attention as possible to them.

Unfortunately, they were going to be dealt a fate far crueler than death.

* * *

Not far from the barracks rode a small group of Imperials and leading this group was the Crown Prince himself, Prince Zorzal El Caesar. Zorzal is a tall and muscular man and has short blonde hair that lays relatively flat. He is adorned in armor made of the finest bronze and a red silk cape; a typical outfit for one of his stature.

Riding slightly behind him at his right side was his favorite slave and personal fuck toy, Tyuule, the former disgraced queen of the Lagoans. Tyuule has long waist-length silver hair and fur, and she had bright red eyes. She wore a very provocative and humiliating dress that practically left her almost completely naked. This was most probably a ploy bu her… _master_ to further degrade her and break her.

Tyuule may look indifferent but underneath all that burned an intense hatred for the Empire – especially that bastard Zorzal.

Long has she known the Saderan Emperor's desire to conquer all of Falmart under his rule but she never would have anticipated that their army would march against the Lagoans, Lupins, and the Macskans at once.

At first, the three races had the immediate advantage being physically superior to the humans and the incompetence of most of their commanders. Unfortunately, the numbers game began to take its toll on their own armies.

On the brink of defeat and total annihilation, Tyuule and the leaders of the Lupins and Macskans gathered what remained of their forces and made their last stand. The Saderan Prince appealed to them that if they surrendered to the Empire's rule, they would be allowed to live but they knew better than to trust the words of a wretched snake like him. The battle was brutal with the demi humans fighting ferociously and savagely, and wreaking terrible casualties on the Saderan Army.

Tyuule herself led the charge against the Saderans and mercilessly butchered anything and anyone that was not a Lagoan, Lupin, or Macskan. Valiantly, they fought but eventually, the Saderans slowly overwhelmed and out maneuvered them.

Defeated, Tyuule was forced to watch as the Saderans battered, raped, and enslave what remained of the three races until she was given the _esteemed_ honor of being Zorzal's personal slave and play thing.

The Saderans thought that they had enslaved them all but unknown to them, Tyuule had ordered those that could not fight – the young, old, and wounded – to scatter to the winds and find sanctuary else where while the rest of their armies would try and hold off the Saderans for as long as they could.

After years of suffering under Zorzal's cruel hands, the Queen of the Lagoan Tribes liked to think that at least some of her people made it to safe lands and were slowly rebuilding themselves. It was only after two or three years that she learned from gossiping fat worthless bitches that Count Formal had taken in pockets of her people as well as Lupins and Macskans under his protection…after technically buying them.

Nevertheless, Tyuule knew that they were in good hands because of Count Formal's liberal views.

For years, she endured every waking hour as Prince Zorzal's pet and countless times, she resisted the almost irresistible temptation to squeeze the life out of the pig and watch as his wretched life slowly fade from his eyes but no. She needed to wait for the perfect opportunity. Killing him while he slept would be too easy. No, Tyuule wanted him and the Empire to suffer for everything that they did – innocents be damned.

Tyuule glared at the Prince, her hands clenching on the reins. She would play along, she was nothing but patient and she would wait for the opportunity to finally burn the Empire to the ground.

She may not know it yet but the opportunity for vengeance she patiently and desperately waited for would present itself in the very near future

While she was doing her duties to the Prince, a messenger had come in and told the Prince that a caravan from the Legions beyond the Gate had returned with spoils and new slaves.

Like the pig that he is, Zorzal immediately made arrangements to see the new arrivals of merchandise with Tyuule in tow.

The Lagoan Queen cared little these poor bastards but she was curious to know what kind of captives that were brought back from the Gate. She had heard from Zorzal bragging about the Empire sending several Legions through the Gate and conquer the land beyond for themselves. He even proudly declared that he will make the queen and princess of those lands be raped by his men while their helpless subjects watch.

Regardless of that, Tyuule wanted to know who these people were, where they came from and most importantly, how powerful they are. If they were, then the Empire has made a mighty enemy. One that Tyuule could use in her vengeance.

The group reached their destination and the Prince dismounted his horse with Tyuule by his side. _"Is this it?"_ Zorzal pointed to the caged wagons.

" _Yes, your Highness. This is it."_ One of his guards confirmed and the Crown Prince nodded before he slowly walked to the wagons, observing the cowering bastards within them.

He sneered at them. They wore very tattered and filthy clothes that were admittedly different from what he had seen but that did not matter to him. They would be sold as slaves anyway so Zorzal did not care for who and what they are.

They made the mistake of opposing the Empire's will, now they will pay the price for their defiance.

Nevertheless, the Crown Prince noted that these vermin came in all shapes, sizes, and colors. He saw that some of them had dark skin and he initially thought that they were dark elves but they lacked the distinctive ears of an elf which made them humans with dark skin. Though not exactly unheard of, it was quite exotic. What a diverse batch of slaves these were.

He continued to survey them until his eyes fell on two individuals that caught his eye: a beautiful woman and a child she was embracing; they were probably mother and child. They tried to make themselves as insignificant as possible but they failed. He gave the two a scrutinizing gaze and he felt his lust spike and grinned. Zorzal was sure that his father would not mind if he took these two for himself.

The mother would taste very good while the child? Well, it has been a while since he tasted such a young pussy. Perhaps he could make the mother watch as he ravage her young and delicious daughter.

Oh yes, he just could not wait.

" _Those two."_ He pointed to the mother and daughter with an evil grin. _"Bring them to me."_

* * *

Megan's blood ran cold when the man in the fancy armor pointed at her and little Emily and immediately lunged at them.

" _Get up, wench! His Royal Highness wants to see you!"_ The guard snarled as he and another guard forcefully pulled them out of the wagon.

"No! Please! Don't hurt us!" Megan begged before she was slapped hard on the face making her bleed.

"Mama!" Emily cried out in anguish at seeing her mother getting hurt.

" _Shut up!"_ The guard growled before they threw the two onto the dirt with a loud thud. _"Stand these bitches up for the Crown Prince!"_ He ordered and two more guards immediately hoisted them up.

Megan whimpered in absolute terror as blood trickled down from the cut on her cheek but she did not fear what would happen to her, but for her daughter. She did not care what these animals would do to her, she just wanted her daughter safe and unharmed. "P-Please…let my daughter go…"

The guard holding her shook her violently. _"Shut you mouth, whore!"_ He was about to strike her again before he was stopped by a white fur covered hand holding onto his wrist. When he turned, he saw that it was Tyuule and she was glaring at him.

" _If you hit her and the kid one more time, I will make to have all of you flogged this instant."_ Prince Zorzal threatened with a vicious smirk. _"They are mine."_

The Imperial Guards bowed their heads in respect, fearful of disobeying the Crown Prince. _"Our apologies, Prince Zorzal."_

The Prince let out an arrogant huff before he motioned Tyuule to return to him like the bitch that she was. The Lagoan Queen almost let out a raged filled growl but she managed to held it back and went back to her place.

Once she was back, Zorzal grinned in satisfaction before he walked towards the woman and the girl. Upon closer inspection, the two were quite beauties. The mother was slim and had all the right curves even she already had a child. Her legs were hidden by some skinny trousers but it was enough to give him a very sensual picture. Her bosom were quite delectable as well.

The child on the other hand was still small and developing. She reminded him of that young Dark Elf slave he had not too long ago. Oh it was so fulfilling watching her mind break from the pleasure and he could not wait to do the same to her.

Banishing those thoughts for later, Prince Zorzal walked towards them until he stood before the woman. _"Oh, that looks nasty."_ He said with fake sincerity upon seeing the gash on her cheek. _"I'm so sorry for that."_

Megan trembled with fear. She did not understand a word what this guy was saying but the way his eyes roamed over her body utterly disturbed her. "…P-Please…"

Zorzal smirked as he caressed her cheeks before his hands slowly moved to her breasts and roughly squeezed them. This made her shudder and whimper. _"For a mother, you have a nice pair of tits. You must be quite the bitch where you're from. I wonder how many cocks you've had shoved in your cunt."_ He chuckled with the guards going along with him.

Megan clenched her eyes shut trying to ignore what this monster was doing to her. She had never felt so humiliated and abused in her entire life and this was happening right in the fucking open. Still, better tis happen to her than Emily.

Just then, she felt her breasts were not being harassed any more and Megan dared to open her eyes. What she saw made her blood run cold; that pig was going towards Emily. "No! Stay away from her you son of a bitch!" She tried to struggle free but the guard's grip was too strong and she was punched in the gut for her troubles. Megan doubled over in pain, spitting out saliva and blood, and moaned in pain.

Zorzal heard the cries of the woman and that only made this so much sweeter. A mother's love truly is a fascinating thing; not long ago, she was trembling in fear and now, she is fiercely trying to fight her way to her child. It almost brings a tear to Zorzal's eyes.

Almost.

When he was in front of the child who was looking at him with wide trembling eyes, he gave a friendly smile. _"And who might you be, little girl?"_

Emily's legs shook uncontrollably as she stared at the big man in front of her. "P-Please mister…let u-us go…"

Zorzal chuckled before motioning the guards to step back as he walked behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders. _"Don't you worry, child. I'll be sure to take very good care of you and your mother."_ He said while running his fingers down Emily's shoulder down her arms, making the poor girl shudder.

"M-Mommy…" Emily whimpered, begging her mother to get this man away from her.

Despite her initial fears before and the risk of further physical harm, Megan growled in rage. "Keep your fucking hands off my daughter you son of a bitch!" She roared, trying her damndest to break free but it was no use.

Zorzal laughed maniacally before letting go of the child and walked towards Tyuule. _"Take them back to my Palace."_ He leered at them before he licked his lips. _"And make sure to give them a beautiful bath."_

Tyuule bowed her head. _"Yes, your Highness."_ The Prince grinned before moving back to the horse. The Lagoan queen looked at the mother and daughter; though she was indifferent to them, she could not help but feel pity for what was about to happen to them.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SADERA – SADERAN SENATE BUILDING**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 06, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 13:23:09**_

* * *

The Saderan Senate is the main legislative body of the Saderan Empire and has about three hundred active senators with the Emperor himself being present in most sessions. Much like the Senate of the Roman Empire, the Saderan Senate functions as the principal lawmaking body with the Emperor having the final say whether that law would be made official or not.

Technically speaking, both the Emperor and the Senate and the two main branches of their government but in actuality, it is the Emperor who holds the absolute power. As such, membership into the Senate became highly sought after by most high born individuals who craved for prestige and higher social standing rather than an actual desire for the position and its responsibilities. This is why most Senators, save for a precious few, were corrupted because they knew that with their position, they were virtually untouchable so long as they leave no evidence behind.

For what it truly is, the Saderan Senate was a pit of vipers. Each waiting for an opportunity to fatten their pockets even more.

Walking through the halls of the Senate Building was an grizzled man in his mid forties wearing Saderan Army armor. He stood at an intimidating six foot and two inches and had dark brown eyes. He possessed graying hair due to his age and his line of work. The man had four claw mark scars that ran diagonally down his face.

This man was Legion Legate Woldemar Vi Meridius, one of the most respected and capable commanders in the Saderan Military and former supreme commander of the Northern Armies.

Now, because of the actions of that bastard Prince and his stupid ambition, Meridius was stripped of his command and reduced to the rank of Imperial Legate because he did his fucking job magnificently and the Prince felt jealous of his accomplishments in his idiotic war.

Now usually, he was used to seeing self entitled fuckers stealing the credit from those that truly deserved it. He should know; this sort of thing happened to him as well on several occasions. This time however, was something he considered totally unacceptable.

He was a soldier of the Empire and had served her loyally even when the avarice of those in power slowly choked the life of the people for their own benefit. That slowly made him realize that the wars the Empire had been fighting was not for the sake of unifying the continent under one fair and just rule, but to conquer it in the name of tyranny.

It was only after the conquest and subsequent enslavement of the Lagoans, Lupins, and Macskans did Meridius began to lose faith in the Empire. If one were to ask him, that war was completely unnecessary and cost the lives of thousands of men all because of the Crown Prince's hubris and desire for gratification.

Not to mention of the atrocities committed by their armies upon the innocent whether they were demi humans or not.

When the battle was over and everything was said and done, Meridius would have been better off to just drink this away with a few barrels of wine but instead, he was discredited as a coward and an incompetent commander that cost the Army thousands of lives before Prince Zorzal came in and straightened things out.

This whole thing got even worse when some of the officers supported Prince Zorzal's claims. They were most likely promised a huge sum of money or a higher position in the Army to secure their cooperation. Whatever the reason may be, the damage was already done to the great commander's reputation with people spitting on his good name.

Before things got out of hand, Emperor Molt put a stop to this madness because most of the Imperial Army, who looked up to Meridius, was ready to defend him. In order to appease everyone, Molt had him demoted to the rank of Legion Legate and had stripped him of his command.

Just thinking about it made Meridius' blood boil in anger and disgust. He suffered through such humiliation and disgrace because of the actions of a brute for a Crown Prince. If he was going to be honest with himself, Meridius would like nothing more than to run his sword through that fucker's chest and be done with it. Oh, he knows what that monster does in his spare time and it disgusts him. He also blamed the Emperor for not doing anything to curb his son's monstrous tendencies.

Because of all of this, Meridius had lost all faith in the government and was only in the Army to serve the Saderan people. It was the only true reason he had left to stick around in this field of shit.

Shaking his head, Meridius decided that he could brood about past wrongs later. For now, he was rather interested on why he was summoned here in the first place. The summons was not really that specific as it only stated that the Emperor ordered him to report to the Senate Building immediately.

Meridius had half a mind to just tear the summons to pieces, throw them into the fire, and spend the day with his wife and young son. Alas, he knew better than to disobey a direct order from the Emperor and here he was. Still though?, he could not help but feel a little bit curious on why a Legion Legate was needed in a Senate hearing.

Just as he rounded a corner, he spotted an old acquaintance of his. _"Greetings, Marquis Casel El Tiberius, I'm glad to see you here."_ Meridius nodded at the Marquis who returned his nod.

Marquis Tiberius is a middle aged man with an aged face and black shoulder length hair. His eyes were dark brown and wore a toga.

" _Greeting to you as well, Legion Legate Meridius. I wish we had time to talk but we have even more pressing matters to attend to."_ He motioned for Meridius to walk with him to the Senate Chambers as he did. _"I assume you know what's going on?"_

Meridius shook his head. _"No, the summons I received earlier did not give me a reason other than the Emperor demanded it."_

Tiberius sighed. _"It seems that they neglected to inform you."_

" _About what?"_ Meridius asked with a raised brow.

" _You do remember that over a month ago, the Gate had opened again for the first time in centuries?"_

Meridius nodded. Like many others, he was also shocked to learn of this. _"I do. It was a foolish decision to send an invasion force to conquer the lands beyond. I also remember being asked to lead them through. I declined…I did not want a repeat of what happened to me before."_ He basically spat out.

Casel chuckled. _"Be careful, my friend. The Emperor wouldn't take kindly to your words even if you are our greatest commander."_

The Legion Legate brushed the warning aside, not really caring. _"You still have not told me what is going on."_

It was here that Casel's expression turned grim. _"A few hours ago, legionaries from the invasion force came back with trinkets and captured slaves from beyond the Gate."_

At this, Meridius expression did not change. Slavery was common in the Empire and he knew that captured enemies were either executed or sold into slavery. _"And?"_

" _Those legionaries were all that were left of the invasion force."_

" _What?"_ Meridius stopped mid stride and looked at the Marquis in shock. _"What do you mean they were all that were left?"_

Casel sighed. _"Even I had the same reaction, my friend. Out of the forty thousand men that began the invasion, only seventeen came back and some of them had suffered horrible injuries. Seven legions were lost in just a few hours."_

Meridius' eyes hardened but he was still reeling in shock. Seven legions were gone just like that if he were to believe what was being told to him. But how was that possible? What could possibly be capable of destroying seven legions that quickly?

Okay, that was a moot point. There were many things that could destroy seven legions and even the Imperial Army itself. An example would be the dreaded Flame Dragon but he doubted there were some beyond the Gate…or at least, he hoped so.

" _Do you know what caused that?"_ The Legion Legate asked.

" _Nothing conclusive yet but I've heard rumors that they had stumbled upon amazing and at the same time, terrifying."_ Casel said. _"But I think we'll find out shortly."_

" _I hope so."_

The two entered the Senate Chambers that were already filled with Senators all chatting about trying to figure out just what the fuck had happened; no doubt they too have heard the rumors. At the front of the chamber sat Emperor Augustus himself and to his left was Grand Magister Direlus who sported a very troubled expression.

Meridius took note of that before he and Casel took their respective seats. It was not long before the Emperor called for silence so he may speak.

" _My friends, I know you are wondering why I have called this meeting and I know that some of you had heard the rumors. I am here to tell you now that we face something that threatens our very way of life."_ Molt declared, having everyone's complete attention. _"More than a month ago, we learned that the Gate had reopened for the first time in centuries and we agreed to send an expeditionary force through to bring the inhabitants there under our just and fair rule."_ At that, Meridius and some Senators scoffed silently but made no outward indication that they did. _"But our noble forces were immediately attacked even after Imperial Legate Teritus announced their intentions for peace."_

Most of the Senators and Military officials immediately bought this and were angrily muttering to themselves about getting some payback but those who knew just what kind of a man Teritus is were rolling their eyes. He would never go for something peaceful.

" _It is my deepest regret to find out that at the conclusion of this unprovoked surprise attack, seven legions were lost with only seventeen able to make it back home."_ Molt continued and the entire Senate exploded in shock and anger.

Meridius scowled deeply. So it was true that seven legions were lost. He felt sympathy because he knew some of the men there but now he wanted to know just what kind of enemy Molt had foolishly gotten them involved with.

" _Your highness, we cannot let this go unanswered!"_ An Imperial officer shouted. _"We must avenge our fallen and show these barbarians the righteous might and justice of the Empire!"_ Many Senators shouted their agreements.

Molt held up his hand for silence and everyone quieted down in a few seconds. _"Believe me, my friends, I am inclined to agree and avenge our fallen sons and brothers but we must first find out more about this new enemy."_ Molt turned to Grand Magister Direlus. _"Grand Magister, please share with us what have you uncovered."_

Direlus rose from his seat and made his way to the center of the chamber as he chanted for a spell. Once he reached the center of the chamber and his enchantment was finished, a magic circle formed and the chamber was filled with smoke.

" _We face something far greater than anything we have ever faced before, Senators."_ Derilus said as he manipulated the smoke to show a flag with red and white stripes with a collection of stars to its upper left side with a dark blue background. _"Thanks to the information I and my fellow mages have acquired, I now know the name of our new adversary – the United States of America, a nation of immense power and strength. So much so that their peers consider them a superpower."_

Some were curious about what that meant. _"What does that mean, Grand Magister?"_ A Senator asked.

" _When a nation's economy and military power becomes so great that they can project their influence and dominance over their entire world, they are considered a superpower."_ Derilus explained. _"And as of now, America is the only nation beyond the Gate that is considered a superpower."_

That left everyone in the chamber rattled. To think that they had attacked a nation of such power and might that they reign supreme over their world. Even Meridius was slightly unnerved of that prospect.

A laugh from one Senator gained everyone's attention. _"Bah! This superpower horse shit is all rubbish. You make them appear as they are unstoppable and unbeatable but I know in my bones that if they come here, we will defeat them and make them pay for their transgressions!"_ Some Senators actually agreed with him.

Derilus looked at him with hard eyes before he wordlessly dispersed the image of the flag and showed to them all something that effectively shut them up. It was something that could be described as the Underworld itself as a terrible army of blackened men with devil red eyes and giant monsters marched over a barren and destroyed field.

The Senators shuddered at the carnage that was being shown to them. How a small group of their soldiers massacred fleeing civilians with their staves. How their metal beasts crushed those that tried to run beneath them. How their metal dragons swooped in and burned everything.

Derilus then showed them a massive metal bird that flew so high up into the heavens that they were in awe before many small objects began dropping from its belly down towards a very large city below. What happened next made all of them, even Molt, gasp in horror as those small objects exploded by the hundreds and literally burned the city to the ground. The scary thing was that there were thousands of those metal birds swarming the skies.

" _Tell me, Senator, after seeing all that, could you possibly say that we can beat them now?"_ Where there was no reply, he continued. _"They control beasts and monstrosities capable of untold destruction and misery – their armies sweeping across everything that dare oppose them."_ Derilus then displayed this army rampaging over a city – killing and raping the inhabitants there who begged for mercy but their pleas were ignored. _"Like a terrible storm, they ravage everything in their path until there is nothing left and we are their next targets."_

The Grand Magister dispersed the clouds and momentarily looked at all the Senators who were all effectively frightened before he returned to his seat. He could not blame them for he too felt untold fear grip his heart when he first saw these monsters in action.

Meridius could feel the sweat pouring down his temples and his heart pounding in his chest. Never had he seen so much destruction and carnage of that scale before. This…America was something to be feared and it had just set its sights on the Empire. He cursed Molt more than ever for ever thinking that it was a good idea to invade through the Gate!

" _My friends…we face the single most dangerous threat our great Empire has ever encountered."_ Molt spoke seeing as everyone was scared stiff just as he had expected. _"Our freedom, our very way of life is at risk. We reached out to them in the name of peace and cooperation and they repaid our offer of friendship by slaughtering our envoys. Now they have set their sights on us and plan to destroy everything we have bled and toiled for. So I ask you…will we allow them?"_

As he spoke, the Senators began to feel emboldened by his words. Who did these animals think they were to insult the Empire like this? Did they think that given how powerful they may be that the Saderans will simply kneel before them like a cowed bitch? Well, they have another thing coming.

With a resounding shout, the Senators cursed these aggressors.

" _Emperor Molt, what shall we do?"_ A Senator, Cicero La Moltose, asked. _"We should mobilize our armies at once before they get a chance to cross the Gate!"_ He said with many voicing their agreement including Meridius.

He may not agree with almost every single one of the people here but he knew that they needed to get ready fast in order to stand a chance. He still blamed Molt for getting them into this mess but he can worry about that later…or when he was dead.

It was here that Casel decided to say his piece. _"I may not always agree with Senator Moltose but he is right. For us to have a chance, we need to act quickly."_ Like Meridius, he blamed Molt for all of this but there was no time for that now. He knew better than to trust Molt but this time, he could not afford a division within the Senate if this was true. He was only going along with this for the safety of his country, his people, and family. _"But who would lead our forces against such an enemy?"_

At his question, many military officers and Senators were volunteering for the daunting task. No doubt they desired the fame and riches that would be given to them once they defeated the American menace. Meridius crossed his arms, realizing the true reason he was summoned here – Molt wanted him to lead the armies again.

" _I thank you for your willingness to defend our great nation against this great threat but I am afraid that we need the very best to command our brave troops into this war."_ Molt turned to Meridius with a small smile. _"And who better than to lead our armies to victory that Woldemar Vi Meridius."_

This decision caused some mixed reaction from the Senate. Some actually agreed that Meridius should lead the armies but some argued that he should not be given command because of his rank.

Meridius himself was indifferent with the decision. Oh he will fight but not for the glory of the Empire but for the people. In his eyes, the government was too corrupted to be worth saving. He will do what is required of him and no more than that.

" _My friends, please."_ The Emperor said as everyone quieted down. _"This is not the time for us to squabble about. I understand your concerns but I believe Meridius is just the man for the task. After all, he has proven it time and tine again in the past why he is considered by many as one of the most brilliant commanders in the Army."_ All of the Senators and Military officials, even those that did not like Meridius, agreed on that one and did not have an argument for it so Molt continued. _"So, to rectify your concerns, I hereby appoint Woldemar Vi Meridius to the rank of Consul and name him as the Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army."_ There were many muttering about but none raised their voice to oppose the declaration for the rank of Consul was only given in a time of great danger.

Meridius stood up from his seat and bowed. _"I thank you for this honor, your highness. Rest assured, I will do everything in my power to repel these barbarians and make them pay for their insult."_ Oh he knew that this was an obvious ploy to get back at his good graces but who was he to deny being an Imperial Legate again.

" _Then it is decided."_ Molt slowly stood up from his throne as all eyes laid upon him. _"Assemble the army!"_

Loud cheers erupted from his proclamation with everyone chanting for war but Meridius was not in a festive mood. He knew that this will be the bloodiest war in history…but he had no other choice but to defend his people.

He looked at the Emperor who was soaking up all the cheers from almost everyone and scowled. In fact, he would not put it past the Emperor to have fabricated this whole thing to his benefit to get the Senate on his side. _"You act like you've already won, Molt, but you know as well as I do you've made a very grave mistake. One day, you will regret your actions…we all will."_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: NEW YORK – LAGUARDIA AIRPORT**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 28, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:01:58**_

* * *

 **(Play Star Wars The Clone War (2002) (PS2) OST – Track 00 "Main Theme" AKA Star Wars Ep 2 OST – Begun The Clone War Has)**

LaGuardia Airport is one of the busiest airports in New York City located in the northern part of the New York City borough of Queens in the United States. The airport is approximately six hundred and eighty acres large, more than adequate for an airport of its class.

LaGuardia caters some pretty heavy commercial traffic come in and out of its terminals but unfortunately, under current circumstances, the airport would not be able to accommodate further civilians flights for the foreseeable future for it was commandeered by the U.S. Military.

Instead of commercial airliners lining the tarmacs, it was military aircrafts, vehicles, and personnel. Dozens UH-60 Black Hawks, CH-47 Chinooks, AH-64 Apaches, and the Army's version of the V-22 Osprey, the AV-22B Osprey were formed up on the tarmacs while others were coming in from U.S. bases in the area carrying troops and supplies. Hundreds of troops were also in formation on the tarmacs as they awaited further instructions from the officers.

C-17 Globemaster IIIs, C-5M Super Galaxies, and C-130J Super Hercules were taxiing out of the runways and into the hangars fully loaded with troops, supplies, and vehicles. At the Western corner of the airport, Hangar 7 of the airport was converted into the main barracks and headquarters of Special Mission Units of the Joint Special Operations Command and its assets.

The waters that surround Manhattan island was also bustling with activity with warships from the 4th Fleet patrolling it and escorting numerous supply ships filled to the brim with supplies, personnel, and vehicles to port. In New York Harbor, two America-Class Amphibious Assault Ships, the USS Esperance and the USS Solomon, from Task Force Guardian were docked and were unloading Marines and combat vehicles from the II Marine Expeditionary Force.

The Marines came out of the ships in the hundreds as they marched onto land with their boots echoing with each step. Numerous M1A3 Abrams tanks, LAV-25s, AAV-P7/A1s, and M142 HIMARS were also being unloaded for the Marines will be the ones responsible in securing a foothold beyond the Gate once everything was set and ready.

In North Bergen Yard, soldiers were working tirelessly to unshackle and unload the newly arrived shipment of over one hundred tanks and APCs from a freight train. There were also convoys of military trucks and transports coming in from bases all over the country.

The skies of New York were also littered with news chopped from various networks reporting live of the massive buildup of troops and hardware as the entire world watched. Of course, they were safely reporting outside the designated no fly zone imposed by the U.S. Military. The U.S. was ready for a war it never wanted against an unexpected foe but upon their very soil, the Saderans spilled their blood and forced their hands.

In time, they will realize what they had foolishly unleashed and when the time came…

Well, there are really no other words to say it but they are fucked.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **All right, I know it 's been a long time but life got to me, you know. A fuck ton of projects, reports, case studies, not to mention finals was just right around the corner so I really had no time to write. When everything was done and I could finally devote my time to writing, life decided to be a bitch again and my laptop crashed taking all my files with it. A real heartbreaker because I was over 17k words into the chapter because I wanted it to be a treat for being away for so long.**_

 _ **And this wasn't what was originally planned but I think this feels better anyway. An insight to the Saderan side.**_

 _ **Anyway, here's what I wanted to show here. That the Empire started off as a good thing before their hubris and corruption slowly turned them this way. Slavery is still widely accepted as Meridius didn't bat an eye to it. Zorzal is a disgusting monster and an idiot. Molt bending everything to his benefit and making the US look like they were the bad guys and using what Derilus had learned to sway the Senate to his side in supporting the war. Meridius having lost faith in his government and only fights for the people. And to show the readers that maybe just maybe the Saderans have a fighting chance until I show them the US build up and who the hell the Saderans fucked with.**_

 _ **Oh, and before I forget. You might've noticed the dates I used for the Saderans. That's because I took the liberty of making them a calendar. Here's what I got. 12 months in a year. 386 days in a year. 8 days in a week. One day is 25.17 hours. And the week days are Hudall, Zepha, Sacha, Jeha, Adriel, Geilaph, Seriel, and Arah in that order. I've also given each months some meaning to the Saderans and patron gods.**_

 _ **Here, check it out:**_

 _ **Gratis – Month of Welcoming/ Birth - Flare, Miritta, Zufmuut**_

 _ **Virgi – Month of Purity - Deldort, Zufmutt**_

 _ **Pragena – Month of Fertility - Miritta**_

 _ **Arbeti – Month of Labor - Duncan**_

 _ **Kosha – Month of Harvest - Wareharun**_

 _ **Fülle – Month of Wealth - Wareharun, Duncan, Lunaryur**_

 _ **Disgia – Month of Hardships - Emroy, Palapon, Hardy**_

 _ **Maeto – Month of Mourning - Hardy, Emroy, Palapon**_

 _ **Renoma – Month of Glory - Emroy, Lunaryur, Flare**_

 _ **Adrex – Month of Wisdom - Elange, Ral**_

 _ **Oleni – Month of Enlightenment - Ral, Elange**_

 _ **Pazum – Month of Peace - Zufmuut, Deldort**_

 _ **Also, could some of you help me with something. I've been trying to find the process od how a soldier is promoted. I've been researching it but I'm having trouble understanding it. Trainalf is helping me but I'm still having trouble. If someone could give me some insight to the procedures, I'd appreciate it.**_

 _ **Anyway, tell me what you think about the latest chapter, guys.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Special thanks to Cloud Link Zero and Trainalf for once again helping me with this story and to all the viewers out there.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy!**_

 _ **UPDATED: 16/07/2018**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter V – The Call Of Duty**_

* * *

" _The soldier above all others pray for peace, for it is the soldier who must suffer and bear the deepest wounds and scars of war." – Gen. Douglas MacArthur_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: LITTLETON, COLORADO – WESTBROOK RESIDENCE**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 21, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:47:09**_

* * *

In one of the bathrooms of the Westbrook household was the famed soldier, First Lieutenant Derek Westbrook. He was standing there naked before the bathroom sink and mirror with his jaw covered in shaving cream and a razor in hand as he felt he needed a shave after taking a quick cold shower.

Tilting his head to the right, Derek slowly drew the razor over the skin of his jaw before rinsing the tool over the sink. With regards to having a beard, he is not exactly against it but over time, it does get annoying. That is why he either shaves it off completely or he keeps it short.

After he was done shaving, Derek let out a satisfied sigh and turned off the faucet and leaned over the sink. He looked at himself over the mirror and he often wondered how he was even still alive for this long for his body was covered with scars. The majority of them were bullet wounds, others were slash marks from knives, a few were burn scars and some were made when his broken bones tore through his flesh.

He also had two tattoos on his person. One was the insignia of the US Army Special Forces or otherwise known as the Green Berets and its famous motto, "De Oppresso Liber" on his right shoulder. The other was the insignia of his unit, the 1st Special Forces Operational Detachment – Delta and inscribed over each side of the triangle were the words, "Velocitas, Opprimere, Violentia Operandi" on the back of his lower neck. They translate to, "Speed, Surprise, Violence of Action" and is the motto of Delta Force…but nobody needs to know that.

Call him sentimental like that.

Derek let out a tired sigh as he lowered his head. He has been living a long and harsh life and he had the scars – both physically and mentally – to prove it. Deep down, he knew he was almost dead inside. Apart from the horrors he has seen over the years, he has also committed his fair share of sins…horrible sins.

The things he did…there was a special place in hell reserved just for him, Derek knows. However, this life was the one he chose to live and shall continue to do so until his dying breath. It was his duty and burden to bear; his curse and no one else's.

The life of a soldier was never for those of the faint of heart.

Realizing that he was getting lost in his thoughts, Derek lightly shook his head and wrapped the towel around his waist before walking out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

His room was rather Spartan with plain walls - a simple bed, a closet, a laptop that was showing the latest news, and a dresser. The only decorations the room had was the great collection of medals, patches, tabs, badges, and pictures he has had over his years of service. Mementos of the past and reminders of his accomplishments…but also reminders of what he had to lose to gain them.

Derek grunted as he took his clothes from the closet and threw them on the bed as the reporters gave him the latest news.

" **The eyes of the world are now watching the United States as US forces begin mobilizing for war on an enemy that no one could have foreseen. Worldwide reactions vary as most believe that the US is in the right to declare war while others say that the United States' actions are that of a bully picking on weaker a nation."**

Derek scoffed at that as he put on his pants. Let them think what they want; it did not matter to him anyway. All that mattered to him was that his country was at war once again and God knows how many civilians were taken prisoner by these Saderan fucks, and he intends to do his duty to the damn letter.

" **While these statements are to be expected, none could have expected the statement issued by North Korea last night. Simply put, they claimed that what was on the other side of the Gate was actually a secret settlement of theirs founded and established by the North Korean leader, Choe Yong-gon, and are demanding the United States to relinquish control of the Gate to their custody as well as the island of Manhattan."**

There are not many things that can put a smile to Derek's face nowadays and even fewer could actually make him laugh…but this is one of those things. He let out a small laugh as he remembered the first time he heard this so-called statement. North Korea always did say the most outlandish things to make themselves seem bigger than they were.

He was sitting in the living room, watching some news with his family and enjoying a nice can of soda. They were waiting for any updates on the state of the US mobilization. To be completely honest, Derek was waiting for his phone to ring that day and be ordered back into the field. Then the news anchor received a video detailing that North Korea said that the Gate led to a secret settlement of theirs and wanted the US to surrender it to them including the island of Manhattan. It was ludicrous enough to deserve being played multiple times to show just how outlandish it was.

For a few seconds, the Westbrooks sat there in silence before they burst out in laughter. Derek could honestly say that that was one of the times he was genuinely amused. Hell, the whole world was probably doubling over in laughter as well. As for China, he likes to imagine that the Chinese President was banging his head on the wall at North Korea's so-called statement.

" **In a statement delivered by the White House Press Secretary, Janice D. Carter, seeing as how the United States will face a very unconventional enemy, the government has asked those with knowledge and experience in fantasy lore, and historians specializing in Ancient Roman and Medieval history and customs to hold seminars to teach their soldiers in order to better deal with any encounters they may have on the other side. A very strange move if I do say so myself, but I can see the logic."**

Derek tilted his head in agreement as he put on his shirt. It was a very strange move by the higher ups to ask help from so-called fantasy experts. Historians, he could understand because they were essentially going back in time but as strange as it may be, he knew that it was going to help him and his brothers in the long run. After all, who knows what else could be there? Some powerful wizard, a thousand year old dragon, gods, or hell, there might even be fucking zombies there.

It may feel a little strange but he would make sure to take it all in. The smallest details can make the difference between life and death.

" **With the US mobilizing for war, the United Nations Security Council has called for an emergency session to be held on the twenty-sixth of May to address the situation here. Does this mean the possible formation of an American-led multinational coalition? NATO representatives have yet to issue a statement but it is not out of the question that the Organization will offer military and humanitarian support in accordance with Article 5 of the North Atlantic Treaty. In other news, Jonathan Irons, founder, president and CEO of Atlas Corporation, one of the largest bio-engineering and R &D firms in the world has released a –"**

Being fully dressed already, Derek shut his laptop down, placed his phone into his pocket, and made his way out of the room. Today was a special day for him because his folks think it was high time for a good old fashioned barbecue with family and friends in the backyard.

He promised himself that he would not fuck this up for everyone. After all, he accomplished some pretty difficult missions; a family barbeque should be nothing in comparison. At the very least he hopes so. Some people found it hard to separate work from home and for soldiers it was doubly hard to differentiate the sounds of home from those on the battlefield.

As he walked down the stairs, he passed some pictures depicting some very fond memories of the past. One particular picture made him stop though. It was a picture of his sister, him and their family together with world famous chef, Gordon Ramsay, and his own family at Pamela's restaurant, the Sunset Dream. Ramsay – God rest his soul – was very impressed by Pamela's management and quality of food. Well, Pamela's old man was a retired Marine Corp Captain and her big brother was in the Army so she kind of took some inspiration from them when it came to management.

Derek let out a silent grunt as he wiped off a bit of dust from the glass before he continued down the steps and made his way to the backyard. Already, he could smell the sweet aroma of some fine slabs of meat cooking on the grill. He could hear people talking and laughing from the other side of the door…it looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Before he could open the door and join in, he stopped just short of touching the knob as he heard some muffled voices coming from the kitchen. It was probably nothing; maybe his mother and sister getting some more food or something…until he heard someone moaning from behind the door.

Derek still thinks that this was nothing serious but curiosity got the better of him so he quietly made his way to the kitchen door. He brought the side of his head closer and listened in.

"Pam, you got some sweet–"

Derek did not need to hear anymore as he almost broke the door down. His eyes carried the efficiency of a trained killer as he scanned the kitchen before his eyes fell upon the other two individuals in the immediate area. What he saw was something that made him feel…very surprised and displeased.

There was Pamela, his baby sister, being held by a man wearing a pair of torn blue jeans, black boots, and a sleeveless denim jacket over a black T-shirt. Derek immediately recognized this man as Peter 'Pete' Callahan, leader of a local motorcycle club, the Fortunate Sons.

Judging from their position, it would seem that they were trying to suck each other's face off and were startled by his sudden and violent entrance.

"D-Derek?" Pamela squeaked.

"Umm…hi." Peter chuckled nervously.

Derek, however, was unamused. "What the hell is going on here?"

The two immediately separated from each other and straightened themselves out. "W-We were just getting some more meat and drinks." Pamela tried to reason but she deflated when her brother scowled at her.

"You didn't answer my question." Derek growled. He knew that they knew what he was referring to and it was not about the meat and the drinks.

Peter and Pamela could not meet his eyes as they shuffled their feet under his gaze. They were like two children caught red handed trying to steal some cookies.

Seeing as how they were tongue tied, Derek clenched his jaw. Considering they were sucking each others' faces off like there was no tomorrow, he could only assume that they had been seeing each other for a good while now.

Derek would deal with her later. For now, he had bigger fish to fry. He turned to the other individual in the kitchen and folded his arms over his chest. "So, explain to me why you're humping my sister over the counter." He ordered.

Peter shrugged, getting over his initial embarrassment. "Well, isn't it obvious? We're dating." He stepped around the counter and stood before Derek. "You got a problem with that?" He saw his girlfriend's brother glare grow deeper and darker so he matched it with his own.

"Peter…" Pamela uttered in warning as her heart raced in anxiety. She knows how dangerous her big brother is and she did not want them to fight. She was about to step in and break it up until she heard some snickering.

The corner of Peter's mouth twitched upward and he began to snicker. Soon enough, Derek was also showing signs of smiling. Peter could not take it anymore and he laughed.

"Shit, you got me, D." Peter laughed in good nature as his best friend let out a small smirk. He then came over and gave Derek a friendly hug. "It's good to see you, man. Welcome home."

"Good to be back, Pete." Derek reciprocated the hug and added a few back pats as well.

There was also one thing about their relationship with one another. Derek and Peter were best friends from high school and that he was an honorary member of the Fortunate Sons.

Pamela released the breath she did not know she was holding and sighed in relief before glaring at her brother and her boyfriend. "You're two are asshole, you know that? All this drama and suspense for nothing."

"And you were close to pissing yourself too." Peter laughed as Pamela gave him the stink eye.

Derek shook his head in amusement before clapping his hands. "All right, you had your fun. Let's get the food out there, I'm starving."

The two nodded in agreement. Pamela grabbed the steaks while Peter and Derek grabbed the cases of beer, and they made their way out to join the others.

Derek mentally gave himself a pat on the back for handling that quite well in his opinion. _'So far, so good.'_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: CLASSIFIED**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 21, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 10:51:11**_

* * *

Lying in bed in of the many prison cells was none other than Count Colt Fortunato Umbrius Formal. He was staring up at the ceiling, contemplating his current situation and what would happen in the foreseeable future.

Since he found himself strapped onto a chair in that endless white void of a room, Colt found himself isolated from whoever had survived that bloodbath. He pleaded with his captors to let him see what remained of them but they denied every time.

He let out a silent breath. The survivors were probably being subjected to the same interrogations he was going through, the Count was certain of that. He was also sure that most of them will resist – throwing insults and threats of retribution at the Americans but they would find out soon enough that it was pointless.

It could be worse though. The Americans could have simply tortured them for the information; they certainly possess the means to inflict excruciating agony. Then when they had been squeezed of everything they knew, they would be executed and dumped to some hole. It was what the Empire would normally do but not this country.

All things considered, Colt's imprisonment was a comfortable one. Clean clothing, a warm bed, and three meals a day; it was surprising actually. He could only assume that the could be said for the other survivors.

Still, this civilized treatment could just be a ruse. An elaborate show of kindness to make them complacent and more cooperative or face the alternative – long hours of torture. The Count had to admit, this method was as creative as it was cunning to offer the stick or the carrot in such a manner.

The majority of the day consists of him answering all manner of inquiries about the Empire and what there is to know about Falmart. He answered them as honestly and as detailed as he could, fearing that lying to the Americans will land him a very grave punishment. If there was a question he truly did not know the answer to, the interrogators said that it was okay and moved on.

Strangely enough, during his interrogations there was this little thing that would speak in a strange language in a metallic voice every time he spoke. When he asked what it was, the device itself told him that it was a translating device in his own tongue. It needed a little work as some of the pronunciations and context of certain words and phrases could be off at times but he was astounded nonetheless.

When asked about whom else some grievances to the Empire had aside from the vassal states, the Count told them that he knew a group of Imperial Senators were unhappy with the current form and corruption within the government; chief among them was Marquis Casel El Tiberius. He also told them about Woldemar Vi Meridius, the disgraced former commander of the Northern Legions and one of the most respected men in the army.

Colt did not know the exact details but from the rumors he had heard, Prince Zorzal had framed Meridius of being a coward in a fit of jealousy and moved forward to have him beheaded. This resulted in the Imperial Army almost rising up in the defense of Meridius and it got so bad that Molt had to step in or risk a riot. In the end, Meridius was stripped of his command and his name being a laughing stock within the aristocracy, and Prince Zorzal getting all the glory. Needless to say, the disgraced warrior and those still loyal to him were left bitter and angry.

There were questions whose subjects were also of great interest to them though – such as magic, their religion, and the other races of Falmart.

The Count did not know much about the former but he did mention the city of Rondel was the place to go if they want to know more.

For their religion, he told them that they worship a pantheon of twelve gods and all about them. The Americans did not really take any interest on it until he told them about the Apostles – mortals who have been chosen by the gods to act as their agents and representatives to the mortal world. At first, they did not believe him until he told them about the infamous Rory Mercury but assured them that though she had psychotic and homicidal tendencies, especially when someone deliberately angered her, she knows the meaning of compassion and justice. However, he advised the Americans to be cautious nonetheless for the Apostles are extremely dangerous and powerful compared to a normal person.

For the latter, he gave all he knew about the races. Particularly, those under his care – the Lagoans, Macskans, and Lupins – and there were also, elves, ogres, orcs, goblins, trolls, dwarves and many others.

He also told them about the threat of the Elder Dragons; more specifically, the Flame Dragon that has terrorized the region for centuries. The Count explained that not even entire armies could defeat it but the Americans seemed confident that they could take it down.

Well, it is certainly a well placed confidence with the capabilities they possess but still, the Flame Dragon is a powerful wild beast. If they did kill it, then the Americans would gain attention and some goodwill from the people. On the reverse side, if they did kill it then they would gain unwanted attention, specifically from the Gods and much fear from the Empire.

Eventually, after who knows how long it has been, Colt had no more information to give so here he was. The thought filled his heart with dread for he has outlived his usefulness to the Americans.

He knew what he had said; that he will accept the consequences of his actions but that does not mean he felt no fear. Colt did not know what kind of hell awaits him, but he knew it will not be pleasant. Would he and the survivors be paraded through their capital where the people would shame them on their way to the executioner's block? Would they be burned at the stake? Would they be crucified? Would they be flayed alive? Would they be bound and thrown into the sea where they will drown assuming the waters were not infested with monsters? Or would they be simply left here to rot?

All these scenarios played in Colt's mind and it made him shiver. The Empire's way of executing their prisoners were brutal and savage. It would not surprise him if the same were true here.

' _Damn you, Molt. Damn you to the lowest pits of the Underworld.'_ He thought to himself, furiously cursing the Empire's monarch.

Because of that bastard's mad grab for more land and power, they had infuriated a powerful country. Through his arrogance and the arrogance of the Senators who supported him, countless innocent lives would suffer the terrible horrors and desolation of war.

A war they had no hope of winning.

Colt reached under his shirt and pulled out a small flower shaped pendant and smiled softly at it. It once belonged to his late wife who died giving birth to their youngest daughter, Myui. The memory of her dying before his eyes still pained him so but she lived long enough to give him this pendant and bade them all a tearful farewell before she passed on.

He had thought that the Americans would take it away from him. Colt begged them to let him keep it and surprisingly, they agreed. It was another small kindness the Count would not forget even if he faced death.

He swore that when the day came for Myui to take his place as the Head of Clan Formal, he would give her this pendant. Now, he will never get that chance. He will never see his daughters again – he could only imagine how everyone would react to his supposed death; Myui would take it the hardest.

Before he could continue his thoughts, there was a loud knock on the cell door and the metal slot slid opened. _"Colt, get ready. You are meeting someone important."_

Colt was confused. He had given all he knew, there was nothing left for him to tell them. _"What do you mean? Who is it?"_

" _Just get ready."_ With that, the slot closed and the Count chewed the inside of his cheek. He did not know what more they wanted from him but…could it be that they were taking him to be executed? So soon?

He felt his stomach lurch at the thought but he composed himself. If this was it, then he was going to die with dignity and honor. With that in mind, Colt slid the pendant inside of his shirt, stood up and walked to the door, and held his hand out of the lower slot where they were immediately cuffed. The same were done for his legs.

Now completely shackled, the doors opened and he wobbled out. Waiting for him were two black clad guards. _"Okay, let's go."_ One said before they walked down the dimly lit corridor.

To Colt, it was unnerving. He had done this numerous times but the silence, the dimness, and the cold were unsettling. It was like he walking inside a labyrinth of stone and steel.

For a few minutes, they walked. Going from one corridor to another with only their footsteps being the only sound the Count could hear. He looked up to the ceiling and he could see this small thing with one reflective eye staring at them; following their movements like a sentry.

It was all starting to get on his nerves and fueling his paranoia even more.

Finally, they reached their destination. Two other guards holding those deadly staves were standing at the sides of a wooden door. Colt fought to control the trembling of his hands; he had seen men being torn to pieces by those things.

One guard looked at him in the eye before he reached over to his right shoulder and grasped an object. "Sir, he's here."

"Excellent. Bring him in."

The guard nodded to the other two escorting the Count before he opened the door and the three proceeded onwards. What lay beyond was not what Colt was expecting.

Instead of a bleak and claustrophobic room he was used to in his interrogations; it was a magnificent chamber with glossy wooden walls which displayed fine works of art. Scarlet carpeting lay over the floors, and at the center was a wooden table surrounded by eight chairs.

All in all, Colt could not help but marvel at the beauty of this chamber. Only the wealthiest of the noble families possessed something close to this. It looked like some kind of council chamber if he was not mistaken.

"That'll be all, gentlemen. Thank you." The voice broke Colt from his reverie and he noticed the sole occupant of the room as the guards retreated out of the room and closed the door behind them.

On the far side of the room was a man with his back towards him. The man wore fine clothing and he appeared to be pouring something into a glass if the sound was anything to go by. Whoever this man was, he must be very important and that made Colt a little on edge. For all he knew, this was the leader of the United States or someone else almost as important.

Still, what do they want?

The man turned around and the Count could see that he was a middle aged man with greying hair, and had a bit of a potbelly. Grasped within his hands were two glasses filled with some kind of beverage – wine or ale perhaps?

"Ah, welcome, Count Colt, a pleasure finally meeting you." The greeted with a friendly smile but the Count did not understand a word he said and he quickly realized his mistake. "Oh, sorry." He set down the glasses on the table and dug his hand into his left pocket and fished out one of those translating artifacts. "Let me just get this thing started up." The device hummed to life before he set it down.

" _A pleasure meeting you, Count Colt, my name is Edward Caine. I'm a representative of the United States of America."_ Edward introduced himself and Colt hesitantly nodded, remembering the first time he met a representative of this country.

" _The pleasure is mine, Lord Caine."_ Count Colt had to give himself a pat on the back at sounding dignified despite feeling his heart about to burst out of his chest. _"But…am I being questioned again?"_

Edwards chuckled and shook his head; partly being amused at being called a Lord. _"No, I assure you, what we're about to discuss could prove very beneficial to us both. Please, take a seat."_ He motioned to the chairs.

Colt did what he was asked and sat down on one of the chairs which he found incredibly comfortable. He had to commend the craftsman who made this.

" _Would you care for a drink?"_ He was presented with the other glass and he graciously accepted it. He was not about to insult his host by not accepting what he had offered.

" _Thank you."_ The Count took a small sip of the copper color drink and upon touching his tongue, his eyes widened in surprise when his mouth suddenly felt like it was on fire and coughed violently. _"What…what is this?"_

Edward laughed as he took his own seat next to the Count. _"It's bourbon whiskey, Count Formal – Old Number 7. It has a little bit more kick that the wine and ale you're used to. I know I had trouble the first time I got it but you'll get used to it after a couple of sips."_ He said, taking a swig of his own.

Shaking his head and with his mouth still feeling like he just ate burning coal, Colt set his glass down. _"If I may be so bold, Lord Caine, what is the purpose of this?"_

" _Ah, yes._ " Edward nodded before setting down his own glass. _"Before we begin, I'd like to fill you in on a few details. You've been out of the loop for quite some time now and I want you to understand a few things before we move on."_

" _I understand."_

" _All right, now as you well know, you and about forty thousand of your soldiers tried to invade American sovereign soil; destroying millions of dollars – our currency – worth in property damage and are responsible for the murder of thousands of innocent lives and the capture of dozens more through the Gate to, most likely, be sold into slavery. Between all that, this unprovoked act of aggression is tantamount to your country declaring war on us."_

Colt visibly flinched at being reminded of what he was forced to be a part of and the consequences thereafter. He knew that what they did would only result in war but hearing it now was a different feeling all together. _"To my eternal shame, I cannot refute the facts you have stated."_

Edwards nodded in acknowledgement before he continued. _"Just a few days ago, our President – the leader of the United States – stood before our Congress or our version of your Senate, and declared war on the Saderan Empire."_

That was something that made the Count's stomach drop. His worst fear had come true; the Empire had gotten itself into a war with this powerful country. With no words to say, he merely lowered his head and nodded solemnly.

" _That's not even the worst part."_ What Edward said Made Colt look at him in dread. _"Technically, the Saderan Empire is an alien entity because they come from a different world. By invading us, they didn't just declare war on the United States; they declared war on our entire world – all seven BILLION of us."_

The color immediately drained from the Count's face as he immediately understood the implications of what he has just been told. He did even think to consider that and he certainly did not know that there were over seven fucking billion people in this world!

Images of this world's armies numbering in the millions marching through the Gate and laying waste to Falmart filled his mind – the entire continent burning and the population killed and/or enslaved under their collective might. Most prominently, he could see his daughters nothing more than burnt corpses.

No, this was going too far even for them! He had to do something! _"P-Please, that is too much! Show mercy, I beg of you!"_

Edward sighed as he sat back on his chair. _"Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do. The die has been cast and in a few days from now, every nation's heads of state will convene to address this issue."_ He could see the Count looking at him in abject horror, trying to say coherent words before he slumped onto the chair – his resolve shattered.

In truth, while it was correct that the Saderans were an alien entity and technically declared war on all of Earth as soon as it invaded the United States; it was not really that simple. After all, almost everyone envisioned an alien invasion by a highly advanced hostile race coming in from the sky, not by some Roman look a likes and their fantasy tricks and pets from some trans-dimensional doorway that suddenly appeared in Time Square.

Edward was confident that the whole world going to war would not come to pass but he had to get the Count to believe that it would. It was probably the quickest and best way for him to get on board with their plans. A bit underhanded perhaps, using his fear and intimidation, but it gets the job done.

He let Colt a few moments to let it all sink in before he cleared his throat. _"However, we can make that not happen – our world going to war, I mean."_

The Count had barely heard him but he did. He looked at the American representative in surprise and a little bit of hope. _"Y-You can? How?"_ How could one country convince the world not to go to war?

" _We can."_ Edwards nodded with a small reassuring smile. _"Here, the United States is considered a preeminent global power – a superpower if you will. It basically means that a country has grown so powerful and influential that it can influence decisions in the world stage."_

Colt could not help but gape at that tiny bit of information. He knew that the United States was powerful but never in his wildest dreams would he guess that a nation could become THIS powerful. Before he could become blinded by relief, the politician in him quickly realized something.

Even for a global power like the United States, swaying global decisions would not be easy. For them to do this, the United States wanted something in return. It was so obvious – this was a negotiation or rather, he was being presented with terms and there was nothing he could do but accept it or his home suffers a thousand deaths

"… _You want something in return for you to do this, don't you?"_

Edward nodded. _"That's right."_

" _But what more do you want? I have already given your people everything I know about the Empire and Falmart at large, and I have surrendered myself to your law's judgement. What more do I have to give?!"_ Colt exclaimed, his breathing heavy.

Edward saw the door opening and the guards outside almost barging in but they stopped when he held up his hand and signaled for them to go back outside. The guards were hesitant but they slowly complied.

After a few calming breaths, the Count realized that he had lost his composure there and possibly ruined his chances in lessening the damage. _"I…I apologize for my outburst. The days have…have not been kind to me."_ He bowed his head in resignation.

" _I can tell."_ Edward nodded understandingly. It was time to give the crestfallen man a bone. _"I'd be a wreck too if I was in your position and hearing what you're hearing, but I can assure you that this is something we all can prosper from."_ He then grabbed his suitcase from under the table and took out two documents from it. _"Count Formal, you've been very forthcoming and cooperative with us and my superiors feel that you'd be more useful to us alive than dead or imprisoned in a high security federal facility. They also understand that you can't exactly speak for the entire Saderan government but you're one of the few who have been very cooperative since General Tertius isn't being exactly helpful."_

Despite all of the stress he was feeling, Colt sighed at Tertius' stubbornness and arrogance.

" _As such, am I correct to assume that you speak for your Clan, House Formal?"_ Edwards asked him and Colt nodded, interested about where this was going.

" _I do represent my Clan."_

" _Then my government would like to make a deal with you. I'll give you the gist of what's in this."_ He tapped on the documents. _"Simply put. Once our forces cross the Gate, you shall accompany them and help us establish some relations with the other entities there like your vassal states. Explain to them that we mean them no harm and we're not at war with them but with the Saderan Empire specifically, and would be very much welcome to form diplomatic relations once hostilities are resolved. In return, we grant you and those of your choosing – provided their crimes are not too severe – full Presidential Pardons and shall be allowed to return to your homes. No strings attached nor any treachery involved, I assure you. This comes down from the President himself. Here, take your time to look it over."_ He handed Colt the documents which was quickly snatched from his hands.

The Count feverously read the one document that was astonishingly written in his own native tongue. Using his years of experience, he reread it carefully for several times to make damn sure he was not being tricked but he found no signs of betrayal. Its contents were the same as what Lord Caine said.

He only needed to act as a mediator between the United States and the various parties from his home. He would have to help them see that the US was not their enemy, but a potential ally. If he did what he was asked to do, then Colt and those who he chose would be given full amnesties and safe conduct back to their homes and families.

There was…there were no words to describe what he was feeling right now. For days, he had prepared himself for death but the Gods – no, the Americans had opted to give him mercy and a chance to earn his freedom back. What they were asking of him was not exactly easy but it was certainly doable. His men would get to see their families again…he would get to see his daughters again.

Blinking back the tears that were threatening to spill, he set the documents down and looked at Edward. _"This…this is extremely kind of you, Lord Caine…I don't think I'd be able to repay this…ever."_

" _It's not me you should be thanking but President Jameson."_ Edward said. _"He drew up the terms but I must warn you though. You break our agreement and it'll be your head. The words of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff – our highest military commander next to the President – not mine."_

Colt nodded in understanding. After all, Duran and Meridius would probably say the same thing. _"I understand wholeheartedly. I cannot promise that everyone will listen to me but I have the necessary connections to spread the word."_

" _That's all we ask for. Now, would you please sign the documents so it'll be official?"_ Edward took out a pen from his coat and handed it to the Count who immediately began signing the papers. When it was done, Colt handed the pen and the documents back to him and the American smiled. _"It's official. You can expect that you'll be out of here in a few days and be briefed on the specifics of what's required of you. If you want, I can pull a few strings so you can meet your men?"_

The Count smiled for the first time in many days. _"I would like that very much. Thank you."_

Edward nodded with a smile. This was probably the easiest negotiation he has ever made and there was not much politicking involved. He then grabbed his glass of bourbon and looked at the Count. _"Congratulations, Count Formal. You just took the first step towards the cooperation between our worlds. Who knows, maybe when this war is over, we can forge a future brighter than anything we can imagine."_ He raised his glass towards Colt. _"To the future of our worlds."_

Colt reached for his glass as well and raised it up to meet Edward's own. He knew that many will suffer in the coming war between the United States and the Saderans but he was granted the opportunity to lessen the bloodshed and see for himself what the future will hold for them all. It was a tremendous task and honor.

" _And to peace."_

The two men downed their drinks and Colt grimaced once he was finished. _"I think I'll need more than a few sips to get used to this."_

Edward laughed in response.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: LITTLETON, COLORADO – WESTBROOK RESIDENCE**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 21, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 11:23:18**_

* * *

Back at the Westbrooks, their family barbeque was going smoothly. Food and drinks were plentiful and everyone was having a great time; especially the children who were playing with water guns and doing some stunts on the swing set while others played with the family dog; a three year old pitbull named Pinky. All of this was under the supervision of their parents of course.

This was all set up as a welcome home party for Derek for it has been so long since he had come home.

Right now, he was sitting at the table enjoying the good food and a beer in hand with everybody, and listening to all their stories. One particular story being told right now was of a friend of Pamela's and an employee at her restaurant.

"And then she was like, "Hey, care to give a girl some company tonight" and I was like, "Sure, I got nothing better to do anyway". Didn't get any sleep after that." The young man, Joseph Y. Pillsbury, said with a smug grin and all the guys there whooped and congratulated him at his story of scoring a girl.

However, one woman, Rosa M. Vargas, another friend of Pamela, rolled her eyes at his claim because she knew it was nothing but bullshit. "Man, we want the actual story."

"What? That was the true story, Rosa." Joseph said defensively but one look for her and his spirit crumbled. "…Okay, I said hello and she said goodbye."

The man next to him, a member of the Fortunate Sons, grimaced and patted him on the back. "Damn, tough luck, kid but it was a cool story though."

That got Joseph to smile a little. "Thanks, man."

"Sure…okay, now." And just like that, they all laughed at him. Even the children joined in even if they did not know what it was they were laughing about.

Pete wheezed in laughter while having his arm around Pamela's shoulders. "Y-You actually think we were going to believe that shit?!" Everyone laughed harder, much to Joseph's chagrin.

Derek was laughing as well but not as hard as the others. In the barracks, everyone does this all the time when there was nothing to do and no orders to fulfill. Dick measuring contests, who got laid the other night, how many women they got in their beds since ever, and his personal favorite, MRE eating contests.

No one has challenged him in years though and he was quite disappointed at that. After all, he has been saving a particularly infamous MRE menu just for that occasion. It might be a little out of character for him but he always wanted to see the look on that poor bastard's face when he sees what is in store for him.

Pamela took a sip from her beer and leaned forward. "All right, give him a break guys. He's already been burned once, no need to burn him again." Laughter broke out again before she continued. "So, Derek, you got any good stories?"

Peter nodded in agreement. "Hell yeah. C'mon, D, even you Green Beret boys need some humor in their lives."

Another thing is that everyone with the exception of his direct next of kin thought that Derek was still a Green Beret. It was not that he did not trust them but it was standard procedure to not let anyone, even family, know that they are in Delta Force for security purposes. After all, one cannot trust everyone to keep their mouths shut.

There are many ways one such ad himself could counter this. One way is to simply say that you are still part of your previous unit. It was the most straightforward way to get people of your case.

Derek hummed in thought before he decided to humor them. "There was that one time I caught a few guys throwing a flash bang into the latrines while someone was using it. The whole thing fell over and the poor sucker came out covered in shit and piss."

The rest of them laughed. "Oh man, that's gold!" Rosa guffawed. "Gross but funny as all hell!"

Derek nodded with a smirk because remembered that one well. "Of course, there was a tiny problem. The poor sap they pranked was a Captain and not their intended target. Last I heard, they were still cleaning every latrine in the base - that was half a year ago." At that, everyone laughed for a good minute.

"Oh, remember that time when we pranked your sister here?" Peter asked and Derek's eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Hell yeah." He chuckled, gaining a smirk as Pamela groaned in annoyance.

She glared at her brother and boyfriend as her parents snickered. "You had to remind him, huh? You just had to, you jabbering idiot."

Peter chuckled as he held his hands up. "Of course, that was one of the few times you screamed like a little girl." For that, Pamela punched him hard on his arm.

The others, however, were curious at what they were talking about. "…Um, could someone explain to me what're y'all talking about?" Joseph asked.

Derek and Peter looked at each other before they shrugged. "Well, when we were kids, we had this bright idea to scare the living shit out of Pamela." Peter explained. "So D here grabbed one of his old toy cars and stuck a giant paper mache roach on it."

"While she was playing outside, I had dad hide it somewhere in the backyard while we hid in the bushes." Derek said with a smirk. "Pam got so scared and ran all over the place while we laughed our asses off. She threw rocks at it, twigs, hell, she even threw her shirt at the thing until she climbed a tree. Mom had to ruin the fun though when she heard the screaming. And I'm pretty sure she crap her pants because I smelled something funky."

"Yup, she did." Hannah piped in.

At the end of the story, all of them busted out in laughter while Pamela blushed in embarrassment. She glared at her brother and Peter. "I hate you two jerks."

"Aww, don't be like that, babe. We love you still." Peter cooed before being elbowed in the ribs. "Ouch!"

"That's what you get." She hissed before she turned to her brother. "And you…I'll get you back at this."

Derek chuckled before he took a swig of beer. "Good luck with that."

"Okay, next one." A member of the Fortunate Sons said once the laughter died down. "You know that place we've been too the last few weeks? Well, it turns out…"

As they all continued their merriment, Derek could not help but feel at peace for the first time in a long time. It was like that old saying, there really is no place like home. He gulped down a few mouthfuls of beer in satisfaction. He turned to his right and he could see his nephew, Simon, talking to some of the guys and huffed. The boy had grown since that last time he saw him.

Simon was now seventeen years old with shaggy black hair and brown eyes. He was lean with a fair bit of muscle on him and from what Derek has been hearing, one fast runner for his team. He also works at his mother's restaurant as a server and the boy was quite the charmer from what Pamela had told him. She said that her son was already wooing this one nice girl for prom much to the embarrassment of Simon.

Derek chuckled at that. He remembered how his prom went...not all that good actually but it was the experience that counts.

 **POP!**

That sound almost made Derek jump as he turned his head to the source of it. Only to find that it was just Joseph opening another bottle of beer.

Seeing that it was nothing, he slightly shook his head and relaxed. It was just a bottle popping, there was no need to get antsy over it. Sparing a glance at everybody, he saw that no one noticed his sudden movement and he mentally sighed in relief. He did not want to fuck this up for them.

 **WHOOSH!**

Derek stiffened and almost hit the deck but years of training and self discipline enabled him to stay put. That sound reminded him of an RPG coming straight at him.

Slightly leaning backwards, he saw that it was only two guys grilling some steaks. Apparently the juices caused the flames to grow but it was not only the sound the bothered him. The sight of the flames reminded him of the burning cities he had fought in. The smell of burning coal reminded him of the burning rubble, and the destroyed vehicles and aircrafts that littered the ground. The smell of burning steaks reminded him of–

Before he could finish that thought, Derek shut his eyes and took a deep silent breath. He noticed his right hand was shaking and gripping that arm rest tightly. He took a big gulp of beer to calm his nerves but it did little to help him.

No, he was not going to lose it here. He promised himself he would not!

"BANG! BANG! I got you!"

Derek slowly turned his attention to the children and saw that they were playing with makeshift gun. He saw Simon take aim at another kid and pretended to shoot her. The child screamed in mock agony and fell down in a heap.

Despite their laughter, this made him remember one of the darkest moments of his military career.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: IRAQ – TAJI DISTRICT – SABAA AL BOUR**_

 _ **DATE: SEPTEMBER 06, 2012**_

 _ **TIME: 14:17:42**_

* * *

It was midday in Iraq and the country had certainly seen better days – a once proud nation was now but a shadow of its former self. Ever since the nuclear bomb killed over thirty thousand Marines and the conclusion of the Second Russian Civil War, the whole world was thrown into chaos.

As a consequence of the attack, the United States was rattled to its very core. This marked the third time in history a nuclear weapon was used in warfare and it was the Americans who were the victims this time.

Due to this, the remnants of Khaled Al-Asad's army used the US's shock to their advantage and turned into terrorists cells all across the Middle East.

Once the US finally came to its senses, it found itself facing another insurgency. Over the past few months, terror attacks have rattled the region with suicide and car bombings alongside fierce skirmishes. The current death toll was already in the thousands; both combatant and civilian. The situation was deteriorating fast.

In the rooftop of one of the many abandoned and ruined buildings in the city of Sabaa Al Bour, two Green Beret sniper teams lay in their concealed positions. They were part of ODA 5211, Alpha Company, 2nd Battalion, 5th Special Forces Group. One team, Echo 1, was located South of the meeting point while the other, Echo 2, was set up West of it.

Their mission was to provide sniper overwatch for a convoy comprised of the rest of their ODA team escorting two DIA agents about to make contact with an informant at a building designated as Hotel 6. It was a straightforward yet extremely dangerous job as even though this particular place was relatively safe with civilians moving around, there was still danger.

Intelligence reported that there were hundreds of insurgents hiding out all over the city and these guys were not your everyday garden variety shit kickers. These guys were well trained, well equipped, and very motivated – a very dangerous combination.

Then again, the Green Berets were that as well.

Hidden behind a wrecked wall, Echo 1 was scanning the area for any signs of suspicious activity. The designated sniper, Sergeant Derek Westbrook, and his spotter, Captain Chris Summers, had chosen their final firing position or a Sniper's Hide to be this structure for one reason.

From where they are, their hide overlooked a long roadway and to their immediate front was the building itself. This made things easier to spot and kill targets.

Another advantage of their position was that ranging their killing field was made easy because they identified that the road was equally divided by four city blocks. Each block was about fifty five yards and they designated them into four sectors. From their position to the meeting point, the kill zone was approximately two hundred and twenty yards.

With determining the range complete, CPT Summers determined that the wind was travelling at three and a half knots and moving East to West. Derek made the necessary adjustments to compensate. He also made adjustments for bullet drop, ambient temperature, humidity and barometric pressure of the air, spin drift, and the Coriolis Effect.

All things considered, a sniper could not ask for a better position.

"Echo 2, this is Echo 1. We're set up and ready to go. How about you?"

"Roger, Echo 1. We're ready to roll as well. Be advised, however, that our zones are crawling with civvies."

CPT Summers grunted in response. "Affirmative, 2, but let's not think about it. Overlord, this is Echo 1. Sniper teams are in position and ready to provide overwatch. /Break/. Interrogative: what is the position of 2-1 Zulu? Over."

"Echo 1, Overlord. Solid copy on your last. /Break/. Be advised, Echo 1, the convoy will arrive in less than fifteen mikes. Until then, I suggest you boys sit tight and make sure the area's secure."

"Roger that, sir. Over and out." CPT Summers relayed this to Echo 2 and they acknowledged it as well before he put his eye on the Leupold Mk. 4 Spotting Scope and scanned the area. "See anything?"

"Nothing out of the of the ordinary, sir." Derek responded with his eye to the scope. His weapon of choice was the M110 Semi Automatic Sniper System. It is a designated marksman rifle with an effective range of eight hundred and seventy five yards; this made it the ideal weapons for this situation and Derek has earned a reputation as being one of the best marksmen in his group.

Both teams carefully surveyed the area for they knew the bad guys were out there somewhere just waiting for the chance to strike. The problem was that they knew the terrain better than the Green Berets and they knew where to hide. To make matters worse, they could be hiding under the guise of a civilian.

It was like trying to find a needle in ten truck loads worth of hay.

Fifteen minutes later, they received word that the convoy was arriving. "Echo teams, this is 2-1 Zulu. We have arrived at Hotel 6."

"Solid copy, 2-1. We got you covered." CPT Summers said as soldiers dismounted from their vehicles and the agents entered the building. "Overlord, this is Echo 1. 2-1 Zulu has arrived and our diners just checked in."

"Roger that Echo 1. We have a Predator drone orbiting at Angels 6. We'll keep you appraised if something comes up."

"Much appreciated, Overlord. Echo 1 out."

The sniper teams scoured the surrounding buildings for any signs of hostile personnel and anyone who looked suspicious. Every window, every doorway, every alley, they monitored them all.

So far, they detected no unusual behavior from the crowd and no discernable movements from the structures about an hour in since the meeting began but they could not afford to become complacent. The enemy could appear and strike at any time.

CPT Summers was scanning the rooftops from the left and just as he was about to pull out, he spotted a man appear and he was looking directly the convoy. "I got something. Left side rooftop. About eighty five yards out." Derek immediately swung his rifle to the suspect position and it did not take long for him to spot the target.

"Confirmed. I got eyes on a military age male." The sniper reported. The man looked very suspicious as he eyed the convoy before he watched the man pull out a cellphone and began talking to someone. "Yeah, uh he just pulled out a cellphone. Probably reporting in on the meet."

"Roger. Echo 2, do you have eyes on? Can you confirm?" CPT Summers asked over the radio.

"Affirmative, he's definitely talking to someone. You have the green light. Take him out. Over."

"Roger that."

Derek did not need to be told twice as he levelled his crosshairs onto the target. He was eighty five yards out and only his upper torso was exposed – an easy target. Then the wind started to pick up. He cursed but kept his cool and adjusted his scope and aim to compensate.

Confident that this would be a kill shot, he released the safety and aimed for center mass. His finger eased up on the trigger and emptied his lungs; he began to squeeze it.

However, at the last possible second, the man ended the call and ducked behind the door.

' _Fuck.'_ Derek growled, berating himself for losing the target. "He stepped off."

"Damn. Echo 2, the target stepped off. Whatever he's saying most likely went through. Keep your eyes open. Over."

"WILCO."

The teams continued to monitor the buildings with a fine toothed comb now. With that guy reporting in on the meeting, something bad was bound to happen.

"Echo 1, Overlord. Be advised: we have spotted a vehicle moving towards your position from the East."

Derek and his CO turned to their left and spotted a white sedan coming towards them before it turned right. Its current course put it right up the convoy's way. "Roger that. All units, be advised: we have a white sedan moving slowly North towards the Hotel 6. Possible hostiles inside."

"This is 2-1 Zulu, we see it." The Green Berets manning the convoy readied their weapons as they eyed the white sedan wearily.

"This is Echo 2, copy. I got a shot on the driver. Standby."

The Americans waited to see what the vehicle would do. Even though it was coming towards them, the ROE specifically states that they would only fire if they have confirmed hostile intent. Right now, the vehicle was moving at a reasonable speed and civilians were present on the road so they could not attack.

Fortunately, the car hung a left at the second city block and heading back East. With the threat averted, all of them resumed their previous postures and the snipers continued their overwatch.

For seven minutes, there was nothing of note that happened until Derek spotted a little boy no older than seven come out of an alley at one hundred yards. He was wearing a very baggy grey jacket and he appeared to be holding something in his hands. It was strange seeing a child his size wearing a jacket that large and not to mention the heat.

The boy was looking from left to right nervously before walking towards the convoy at a convincingly normal pace. Withdrawing from his scope, Derek narrowed his eyes as he observed him. Normally, something like this would probably be ignored.

After all, there were a hundred reasons why he was walking towards the convoy. His home was probably just a few steps up that road or something. Still, he just had this gut feeling that there was something wrong.

For one, why would that kid be walking in the middle of a busy street alone? Where were his parents and why did most people passing by did not take notice of him? For another, why was he wearing such a big and baggy jacket when it was clearly a blistering one hundred and eighteen degrees today. Not to mention that he was clearly walking towards the convoy.

This whole picture just does not look right to him and in a combat situation; a sniper must always trust his instinct. It could mean the difference between life and death.

Still, Derek knew he could be wrong but he has heard the stories and read the reports that the insurgents were willing to go to new levels of low just to kill them. That includes using children as suicide bombers. After all, who would suspect a little kid would be carrying ten pounds worth of explosives?

The mere thought made him swallow and he hoped to God that he was wrong but he needed to alert the others. "…I got a kid wearing a baggy grey jacket walking towards the convoy some one hundred yards out and closing. He appears to be holding something in his hand."

CPT Summers swiveled around and saw it with his own eyes. It would seem that he too realized what this could possibly mean. "Echo 2, this is Echo 1. I got a kid wearing suspicious clothing moving towards the convoy. Do you have eyes on?"

"Negative, Echo 1. The crowd's blocking our view. Say again: no shot. Chris, if your boy's wrong on this one, it's both your asses. Are you damn sure?"

Chris looked at his sniper who trained his rifle on the child and sighed. He knew that there was a chance Derek was wrong about this one but he knew how the insurgents worked – they were willing to use and do absolutely anything to destroy the Americans. However, Derek proved time and time again that his instincts were as sharp as his aim for someone his age.

If he was wrong, then there would be hell to pay. If he was right and they did not take the shot, then a lot of their guys will be dead.

"Overlord, this is Echo 1. We got a boy wearing baggy clothes coming towards the convoy. He appears to be holding something in his hands. We suspect he's carrying a bomb. Are we cleared to engage?"

"Echo 1, Overlord. You know the ROE. It's your call, Chris. I hope you're right on this one"

"…Copy." Chris resumed his own observation of the boy as he contacted the convoy. "2-1 Zulu, Echo1 overwatch. We have eyes on a suspicious looking child in a grey jacket moving towards your position. Be advised: he may be carrying a bomb."

"Roger that, Echo 1. We'll take care of it. Thanks for the heads up. Over."

Chris and Derek watched as three soldiers moved forward from the convoy and tried to wave the child off. He hesitated for a second before suddenly breaking out into a sprint. The two knew they had to make a decision and they had to make it fast.

There was a chance that Derek could be wrong and he could just shoot at the boy's feet. That would certainly scare him enough for him to run off. However, he was also the chance he was right and the child was going to kill his brothers-in-arms. He could still shot at the child's feet and scare him off even if he was carrying a bomb, but he had no idea what kind of detonator the boy was carrying.

It could be a dead man's switch for all he knew.

He watched as the soldiers shouted at him to stop but the boy did not. "Don't make me do this, kid." He pleaded silently as he leveled his sights on the boy.

When the boy was just sixty yards from the soldiers, he knew he had no other choice.

"Take the shot, Westbrook." CPT Summers ordered and with a heavy heart, the sniper squeezed the trigger.

The bullet took less than a second to hit the boy in the chest and ripped right through his heart. The boy screamed in shock and pain before he crumpled to the ground – he was dead before he even knew it. The shot rang out for miles as the crowd screamed in horror at seeing a child be shot dead.

Moving quickly, the soldiers checked the boy if he was still breathing but the bullet went clean through his chest where his heart should be. One soldier patted the boy's torso and he could feel something was definitely under the jacket.

Opening it up, they saw that boy was indeed strapped with explosives.

"Echo 1, this is 2-1 Zulu. Kid was loaded with HE. Good shooting, bro. We owe you one."

"Copy that. Hell of a call, Echo 1."

"Roger." Chris released his radio and sighed. He understood that things like these happen in the world but it was still scary to see it happen; much less be responsible for it even if it was a for saving lives.

Turning to his sniper, he could see that he was deathly still and breathing slowly. He took the shot and killed the boy; Chris could not imagine what he was feeling right now.

"…Good job, Sergeant. You saved those guys' asses." He, at least, deserved that.

Derek, however, was not patting himself on the back as he stared at the corpse of the boy he had just killed. He felt cold…empty. He has killed before and he would not deny it because everyone he has killed were bad guys. Yet…this child was not.

The boy barely had any hairs on his balls and yet, here he was about to blow himself up. He was just a blind puppet used by monsters to do their bidding. He understood that it was either letting him kill his fellow soldiers or eliminate the kid; Derek made his choice and he saved many American lives and Iraqi civilian.

Nevertheless, he just killed a kid.

He watched as the boy's body was taken away by the medics and he lowered his head in grief. This would haunt him for the rest of his life.

CPT Summers allowed him a couple of seconds to get his shit together before he spoke. "All right, let's get back to work, Westbrook."

Clearing his throat and steeling his nerves, Derek put his eye back on the scope. "Yes, sir."

Fortunately, no further incidents occurred during the mission

* * *

"DEREK!"

The loud shout and shaking finally broke him out of his memory and Derek blinked a few times before he shook his head and looked around. He saw that he was not back in Iraq but his home.

His breathing was ragged and sweat was coming down from the side of his head. His heart was beating rapidly as he saw everyone looking at him in worry.

"Son, your hand…" Hannah muttered in concern.

Derek looked down and he saw that he had crushed the beer bottle in his left hand and it was bleeding. He did not notice it before but now it stung badly. There was probably glass imbedded in it. He released his grip and the broken pieces fell to the grass

Looking back at everyone, he saw that they were worried and scared. "I…" Derek did not know what to say but he knew this much – he ruined everything. Feeling ashamed of himself for losing it, he sighed sadly and stood up. "Sorry." He uttered dejectedly before he walked back to the house.

"Derek, wait!"

"Son!"

"Uncle Rek, wait a minute!"

"D!"

They all called out to him but he did not listen as he entered the house. Walking to the kitchen, he went over to the sink and began washing off the blood from his hands. Fortunately, there was not a piece of glass in his hand.

Once he was done, he grabbed the first aid kit from one of the drawers and dressed his wound. After that, Derek splashed some water on his face before leaning on the sink and sighed morosely. There was nothing on his mind but self-loathing as he cleaned his wound.

This was supposed to be a happy occasion. This was supposed to be him spending time with his family and friends; catching up on everything he missed out on and there were quite a lot. It had started well enough but then…everything went to shit because he could not keep his emotions in check.

He pushed himself off the sink with a grunt and dragged himself to the living room and sat on the sofa. _'Great job, you asshole. Great fucking job.'_ Derek said to himself as he placed his face in his hands.

What happened back then when he killed that kid was the catalyst for his change. Over time, Derek became a monster; ruthless, relentless, and particularly vicious to his enemies. The amount of bodies he put to the ground were so many that the insurgents placed one of the largest bounties on an American soldiers head – one hundred thousand US dollars.

Shows how much they wanted him dead.

Many tried their luck at collecting the bounty but all of them failed. It got to the point that the insurgents began to fear him. They spread tales about him as a malevolent Jinn and gave him a name. The called Derek الموت شرير **(Almawt Sharir)** or the Black Death because of the black neoprene face mask and sunglasses he always wear in battle, and the scores of insurgent corpses that fell to his rifle.

He became Frost.

Then Delta Force took notice of him. They recruited him and they made him into an even deadlier soldier. As a consequence, Derek spiraled deeper and deeper into the abyss with each passing mission and the things he committed and witnessed.

In the silence, he could hear it all again – the gun fire, the detonation of ordnance, the roar of the flames, and the screams of the dying. Derek gritted his teeth, trying and failing to block them out.

There were times when he just wanted it all to end; put a gun to his head and pull the trigger. God knows that he has done enough and he probably deserves it too. He just wanted to know peace again…

* * *

Pamela Westbrook entered the house followed by her parents, son, Pinky, and Peter. After they had calmed their guests down, they immediately followed Derek into the house to see if he was all right.

They understood he had lived a hard life and he was troubled by it; none more so that James for he knew the price of war.

Pinky quickly made a bee line for the living room and saw her pack member sitting on the sofa, clearly distressed. She whimpered sadly before jumping on the couch and snuggling beside him.

The others did not take long to enter the living room and saw Derek there hunched over with his face in his hand. They all felt sympathy towards him and it tore them apart to see him like this.

"…Derek?" Pamela softly called out to her brother but he made no sign that he heard. Her lips trembled as she looked over to her parents and boyfriend.

James looked at his wife and saw she had tears in her eyes. They knew what their son was going through for they had been there before. James had lost a lot of good friends and seen horrible things, but that paled at what Derek had been through. The War on Terror, the Crisis of 2011 and the following insurgency, the Second Russian Civil War, the Russian-American War, and World War Three.

Derek has been through a grand total of six engagements; not counting the other countless missions he has undertaken. There were many times in that last twenty nine years that they feared that one day, someone would knock on their door to reveal an Army officer and a Chaplin to tell them that their son was gone. By the grace of God, they thanked Him that did not happen but now he was going off into another war soon.

Any other man would have been broken by such an ordeal and James knew he most likely would have lost his mind. Now, he was seeing his son losing his own mind. He was suffering.

Slowly, James walked over to his son and sat down beside him. "Derek." He gently laid a hand on his shoulder but his son did nothing. "Talk to us…talk to your old man. C'mon, son." He pleaded with him

"Derek, you're killing yourself." Pamela sniffled, kneeling down in front of him. "You've got to stop this. Why don't you just retire from the Army? You've been in it for almost thirty years, that's more than enough. We'll get you some help and get you back on your feet."

She remembered the days when her brother was a shy loveable dork. Pamela knew that no matter how she wished it, she could never get him back the way he was; but she still hoped. Now, he was reduced to this dejected, miserable, and disturbed man who could not even enjoy time with his family.

Peter nodded. "I know a few guys who can help you, man. Some of the guys know some support groups for veterans." It hurt to see his best friend look so…broken.

Pamela nodded at that with a smile. "See? We're all trying to help you. You're not alone on this one. Please. We're worried about you."

They stayed there in silence for several minutes before Derek finally moved. He raked his fingers across his greying black hair before he sat back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. They were filled with misery, grief, and self-loathing. Derek was almost at the breaking point and he was barely hanging on by a thread.

"…It's…not that easy…" He mumbled softly.

James grabbed his hand. "Try son. I've been through something like this before, believe me. Please…just stop. You've bled enough blood for your country – more than anyone could ask for. I've seen many of my friends get put into the ground…I don't want to bury you too."

Derek sighed and looked at his father. "But…the war-"

"Fuck that!" They were all surprised to hear Hannah curse like that before she marched up in front of Derek and held his face in her hands. "You listen here, you're my son and we're your family. Do you think it's been easy for us too? Everyday, we were afraid that a casualty notification would come and knock on our door and tell you're dead. Every. Single. Day. For the past thirty years, we lived in fear we were never going to see you again."

Derek stared at his mother's eyes and he could see the pain there. She wanted her son back but he has changed too much to be called her son now. "But-"

"NO!" Hannah shouted, gritting her teeth as tears flowed down her face. "You let someone else handle this; you give up this life!" Her face softened considerably as she caressed the tired visage of her firstborn with her voice cracking "Come home."

Derek knew what they wanted but…he was not sure he could give it to them. Unable to give them an answer, he lowered his head in shame. God knows that he loves them with everything he had but…what is there left for him here?

What does the private sector need from a cold blooded killer?

Before he could think on it further, his phone vibrated. Derek did not move for a few seconds before he reached for his phone and checked what his message was.

As soon as his eyes read the message, his face slowly hardened and his eyes grew colder. His family noticed this as well as he stood up.

"I have to go." He said in a low voice before he marched up stairs to get ready.

They watched as he ascended the stairs before Hannah and Pamela cried. James and Peter tried to comfort them as best they could but even they had no idea how to deal with this.

* * *

 ** _LOCATION: NEW YORK – LAGUARDIA AIRPORT_**

 ** _DATE: MAY 29, 2035_**

 ** _TIME: 09:11:09_**

* * *

The ramp of a C-130J Super Hercules opened up and soldiers began to file out. These personnel were from Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Special Force Group of the Green Berets. As they disembarked from the transport and made their way towards their designated barracks, one of them was someone very familiar.

Near the back end of the march was the newly promoted 1LT Eric "Big E" Wilson, one of the two heroes of New York. Though officially, he was considered as the real hero of Time Square. Of course, he knew the truth on that but the higher ups had ordered him to secrecy about the one who was the true hero. He was from Charlie Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Special Forces Group; normally, he was supposed to be stationed back in Okinawa, Japan with his unit but he was going to be deployed here under special instruction.

Eric was feeling rather scared and giddy at the same time. He was no stranger to conflict as before he was assigned to the 3rd Special Forces group and stationed in Africa. He was out on an escort mission when they were ambushed by renegade militia forces.

At the end of the skirmish, Eric suffered some considerable damage to his eyes; rendering him almost blind. Normally, that would have been the end of his career but with some extensive corrective procedures and a pair of contact lenses or glasses, he was fortunate enough to see again.

However, due to the injuries he has sustained, he was not exactly fit to do field work for quite some time so he was reassigned to Alpha Company, 1st Battalion, 1st Special Forces Group up in Okinawa.

Eric was dejected for some time because he trained to be a warrior but he got over it and life went on. After all, Japan was a pretty beautiful place…not to mention the otaku culture and the JAV's that littered any teenage boy's pornhub searches but that was his little secret.

He was born in November 22, 2009 in Jersey City, New Jersey. He did not know who his birth parents were because he was abandoned at an orphanage when he was just a baby. Life was hard living in an orphanage and he did not even have a name but the workers at the orphanage gave him the name Eric and he pulled through with a smile on his face.

It was not until he was five years old when he was adopted by a kindly couple, Mary Ann and Lucas Wilson. They could not have a child of their own so they adopted one instead and Eric was damn lucky to have them as his parents.

They lived a happy life before the war started. The Russians came in so fast and they did not have time to evacuate their home and were trapped in the city. It would have been the end until they were saved by a team of soldiers and were taken to safety.

On that day, Eric was inspired to become a soldier – a warrior for his country. He begged his parents to let him become a soldier for years but they finally agreed once he finished college. Of course he bitched about it but seeing as a college degree would help him become an officer in the future, he said fuck it.

When he was done with college at the age of twenty one, he quickly enlisted with an 18X Contract. It was not a cake walk by any means because of the increased standards but Eric powered on and completed basic training because of his athletic background.

Soon, it was time for him to try his hand at joining the United States Army Special Forces. It goes without saying that Q-course is not for the faint of heart. Most would think that the Rangers would have the harder training and for the most part, they would be right. Rangers are demanding physically but they are primarily shock troopers. On the other hand, Green Berets are considered Jack of all trades – they train in everything.

Upon graduation, Eric became an Engineer Sergeant due to the Engineering course he took in college. Unofficially, he considered himself a hand-to-hand specialist as well because he trains in martial arts in his spare time.

When he was a full-fledged Snake Eater, he found another source of inspiration – a man named Derek Westbrook. Most guys would tell you how tough they were and Eric was once one of those guys, but this dude did not boast about it; he proved it. Not to mention that he was one badass motherfucker.

Derek was famous for being one of the best in the unit and had a reputation for getting missions done no matter the personal cost. Digging a little deeper, Eric found that he was once called the Black Death by insurgents because of how many he has killed, which was a lot, and the one hundred thousand dollar bounty on his head.

That spoke volumes of his skills.

Eric was not exactly keen on the Black Death part but he respected the man's dedication and accomplishments. Derek and many others were out there fighting bravely while he was at home sitting on his ass and watching cartoons.

Then everything was gone after he disappeared apparently; rumor has it he was rolling with JSOC now. Eric hoped to meet him some day.

Apparently, God was listening to him and granted his wish, but He got the delivery all wrong. With the attack on Time Square going on, he did not had time to act on it but he actually fought with the man himself. He was face to face with one of his idols and he almost fell into fanboy mode, but thanks to the training, he controlled himself and fought on. There was time for that later when some Roman wannabes and their goddamn fantasy pets were not trying to invade them.

Now, Eric was going for his first true war ever and that scared him.

Hearing the blare of jet engines, he looked to his right and saw one A-10 Thunderbolt IIs landing on the tarmac while seven others were taxiing out of the runways; further away was a pair of AC-130J Ghost Rider gunships. He could also see tanks and other military vehicles doing some rounds here and there. Damn, they were bringing in some heavy toys.

Once they entered their barracks – JetBlue Airways terminal – reported and settled in, Eric's first order of business was to make sure everything was set for the seminar tomorrow because he was one of the lecturers there.

Thanks to his stay in Japan, he was introduced to the otaku culture and was hooked. He even made friends with a fellow otaku there, First Lieutenant Yōji Itami of the JSDF.

When the White House announced that they were looking for some people who knows a thing or two about anything fantasy related, Eric contacted his CO and explained to him that he had some knowledge about it and there was someone else he know who knows more but was in the JSDF.

Obviously, they could not fly Itami here but video calls were the best alternative. Eric knew there would be specifics but he would leave that up to the higher ups. All he knew was they were considering his idea and would notify him if it was approved.

"Hey, Wilson, CO wants to see you." A soldier hollered to him and he nodded.

"Yup, got it." Eric dropped everything and made his way towards his CO's office.

When he got there, he knocked on the door and entered once he was cleared to do so. He gave a crisp salute and his CO, Captain Kyle T. Messner. "1LT Wilson reporting in, sir."

CPT Messner returned to salute. "At ease. Well, I'll make this short and sweet, Wilson. I just got a call from Command about you and your friend over in Japan to teach at these seminars." Eric nodded but held his tongue. "They gave you the green light. As for your friend, an…Yōji Itami? He'll be allowed too once the Japanese government was informed and agreed to it since it's nothing but a video call."

Eric grinned in satisfaction. Oh, he had so much to teach his fellow soldiers and who knows; maybe he can convince them of the way of the otaku. "Thank you, sir. I'll make sure everything is set."

"You better. We're facing an enemy we absolutely know nothing about except from story books. You guys better knows what you're spitting out at us. Dismissed."

Exiting the office, Eric rolled his shoulders and clapped his hands. He had a long day ahead of him and he would like to get everything done so he can catch up on some episodes of Ultra Fighter Kotaro Ichigumi.

At the entrance of Terminal B of the airport – the main headquarters of the base – a man in his early fifties was just arriving. This was Andrew C. Rosenthall. He was a professor of Yale University and an expert on Medieval and Ancient Roman history.

Andrew was doing some research in his office about the Stonehenge of England about some new and interesting things about them when he received a message from the US government about him teaching their forces on the subject.

Oh, he knew about this new war and what a tragedy it was but still, soldiers who look eerily similar to the Ancient Romans and monsters that were just supposed to be fairy tale? Nothing was more interesting than that, especially for a historian like himself.

After careful consideration, Andrew agreed and he was picked up by a few government agents and here he was.

Walking to the entrance, he was greeted a uniformed man. He was probably a commanding officer here. "Professor Rosenthall, a pleasure to see you." The soldier geld out his hand and Andrew shook it. "I'm Sergeant First Class Adrian Chambers; I'm here to make sure you're settled in."

"Pleasure's mine, Sergeant." Andrew smiled as they let go of each other's hands. "Busy day?" He asked as they head inside.

"Yeah, we're moving as fast as we can to get everything ready." SFC Chambers said. "Orders are to end this war as quickly as possible, get our people back home, and get the bastards responsible for this mess. So we're hauling ass."

"I see. Well, I hope you're successful. You and your men are facing a very daunting task."

The Sergeant huffed. "You got that right. That's why we need you to educate us on how these Roman looking fuckers tick. I know it's not the best but it's all we got at the moment. Well, here we are." They arrived at Andrew's quarters. "This'll be your little home for the next few days. Your seminar will start at 13:00:00."

"Got it, I'll be ready. Thank you."

With that SFC Chambers left him alone. When he was inside, Andrew dropped his bags and sat on the bed. He can prepare his materials later, he needed some sleep first.

* * *

 ** _LOCATION: LAGUARDIA AIRPORT – HANGAR 3_**

 ** _DATE: MAY 30, 2035_**

 ** _TIME: 07:54:12_**

* * *

Hangar 3 was the location of the seminars that were to be held for the soldiers to know what they were fighting against and right now, the hangar was filled to capacity. Personnel from every unit were in attendance but the men and women from the 2nd Marine Division and the Army's 30th Infantry Division took precedence because they were the ones going in first.

There were also a couple of news teams there to cover this seminar.

In the back Eric was currently discussing his teaching materials to the other three lecturers that were with him. One was his friend, Yōji Itami, while the other two were Isabel F. Warren, and Timothy O. Gutierrez. Timothy was a an expert gamer of RPG games while Isabel's knowledge was more classical being a fan of J. R. R. Tolkien's works.

"Okay, so we ready? It's almost time to get this show started." Eric asked them and they all nodded.

"Yup."

"Ready I'll ever be."

"Let's go."

Eric nodded before they walked out in front of the crowd of soldiers and marines alike. Everyone quieted down as the four three walked in. As agreed before hand, Eric stepped up to the podium while the others prepared their things.

Once he was there, he swallowed. There were a lot of people here and he was never good at public speaking but still, he wanted this so here he was; no pussying out now.

"Uh, hello there. My name is Eric Wilson, I'm a First Lieutenant from the 1st Special Forces Group. Well, for starters, it feels kind of funny being here to talk about something that was – until recently – my hobby. Then again, it felt like a fucking dream hanging around in New York and then shooting a real life fucking dragon in the face rather than on screen." He heard some guys laugh at his jest before he continued. "So, here we are. Before I start, I'd like to introduce my colleagues here." Just as he said that, the projector activated and showed a face of a Japanese man. "This gentleman on screen is 1LT Yōji Itami of the JSDF, a friend of mine."

"Aw, shucks, Wilson, don't get all mushy with me." Itami spoke in somewhat broken English but everyone understood what he said and laughed.

Deciding to ignore that for now, Eric continued. "This lady here is Isabel F. Warren." The young woman stepped forward and nodded. "And lastly, Timothy O. Gutierrez." The aforementioned man stepped forward and nodded as well.

With the introductions done, it was time to get this show on the road. "All right, for our first lesson on What-The-Fuck-Are-These-Things-I'm-Shooting-At-And-How-Do-I-Kill-Them 101, Demi-humans – aka they look human enough but the pointy ears, fur, scales, and shit says otherwise."

Timothy stepped forward. "Now, I'm sure you're all probably thinking the same thing. Shoot the motherfuckers 'till they drop." At what he said, there were roars of approval. "And you might be right in most cases but remember, Demi-humans like orcs, goblins, trolls, dwarves, beast-men etc. are not to be underestimated." As he said this, images of those creatures from the videos captured were shown. "They can be taken out by bullets and teamwork as you might've realized, but not all of them go down the same or as easily."

"That's right." Isabel nodded. "For example, orcs, goblins, and trolls are physically stronger and bigger than humans, and are also quite vicious. Before anyone asks, no, I'm not talking about the orcs in hentai so shut it you pervs. There will be no 'I've seen tentacle hentai's start like this' comments here either or I will personally go down there and kick the ass of the person who started it." There were snickering here and there before she continued. "Normally, they're portrayed as wild and beastly; dangerous but predictable. In most cases, that is true. The best way of taking them down is concentrated fire on their weak points. Namely the face, neck, joints and crotch but remember that their skin is quite thick and durable. Mind you, these are all just hypothetical observations since we don't have any concrete data." At this point, she paused slightly to drink some water as her mouth was getting dry before continuing.

"Also, do be aware that the older these creatures get, the more intelligent they usually become. Since there's no hard evidence, we don't know if we are facing the equivalent of the Horde from World of Warcraft or the Uruk-Hai from Tolken so just be on your toes. The easiest way to know who is older is by scars, more leathery skin, graying hair or that they're intelligent enough to pick up a dead body to be a shield or, you know, actually duck for cover."

"As for elves and beast-men, they're a little bit tricky to deal with" Itami explained. "Elves are portrayed as long lived and very experienced when it comes to anything. They're fast, agile, can be as strong as ten to twenty men, hear from long distances, and can even use magic. The same could be said for the beast-men like this wolf thing here." The projection showed an image of a wolf-man. "Wolves are natural hunters and I cam say for sure that this one'll be no different. We can safely assume that what type of animal a beast-man species is based of, they'll have the some attributes of that animal."

The personnel nodded with most of them taking down notes.

"All we have to say is keep your wits about you." Eric said. "Don't try to engage them head on, especially one on one. Just keep your distance, aim carefully, and shoot until they drop." Once he was sure everybody got that, he decided to move on. "Okay, those are just the small fries, now we go to the things we definitely need to worry about. We don't exactly know which they are but these are the basics: dragons, warlocks, and evil spirits. We'll start with dragons first."

He nodded at Timothy who immediately got on the laptop and pulled up some images of dragons from the videos. "Technically, what we're seeing is a wyvern, a type of dragon that has two legs instead of four. As you can see, they're used as air units by the enemy. I'm betting they swoop down, fuck you up, then fuck off before you can swarm it. Hitting it won't be that much of a problem when they're actually swooping down but it is the natural scales that act as their armor that is the problem."

Isabel pulled out some documents. "Thanks to some information that was made available to us, these dragon scales are really tough. It's some kind of natural forming ceramics; roughly as strong as tempered steel. Hell, those scales might even get stronger as they age. However, be mindful that some dragons are cunning so watch out." Those made quite a few soldiers and marines mumble in slight worry. "So, it's probably best if you're packing some high caliber munitions; preferably the armor piercing type, and some stinger missiles. Snipers, if you have anti-tank rounds, use them. If they have a rider, don't use heat seekers often since we have no idea if they can all breathe fire as a form of misdirection and a waste of ammo."

Itami yawned. "Sorry, it's like nine-thirty here and I've been prepping since five." He rubbed his eyes before he shook his head. "Anyway, there's also the Elder Dragons we got to worry about. You know, those big, old, and powerful types. I doubt they speak like Smaug but protecting gold hordes is the least of your worries."

"That's right." Eric nodded and turned to the crowd. "We got intel that somewhere over there, there's an Elder Dragon on the loose. The locals call it the Flame Dragon and it's like Godzilla to them. Good thing is, its last sighting is about a decade ago and is in hibernation. It won't wake up for another forty years or so. Bad news is we might have to take care of it ourselves on the off chance that it wakes up."

Many groaned at having to take on something that powerful.

Itami cleared his throat. "Yeah, sucks right? An Elder Dragon is many steps up from a normal dragon. You can expect it to be many times bigger, tougher, and meaner than the rest. Not to mention that those scale's durability will be through the roof so you guys would something with a lot more punch than a stinger or a .50."

"Recommendations are to STAY CLEAR of the fucking thing." Timothy said with emphasis. "Seriously, this thing will chew you up and spit you out like bubblegum. It's weak points are the eyes but it's a damn small target; you'll only distract it. The best way to deal with it is to call in an air strike and blast it until it's nothing but mush or if you got no where to run, a few direct hits from some anti-tank rockets should do the trick too. Pray you have smokescreens or a flashbang as a last resort if you're cornered as that's the only way you're getting even a second of a head start on them before they fry, zap, drown or breathe pure death at you."

Once everyone understood everything that was said, they were ready to move on to the next subject and Isabel took over for this one. "Warlocks, magicians, wizards; whatever you call them, they all use magic. These guys are probably your most dangerous opponent second only to the Flame Dragon. There are many things a warlock can do: put up force fields strong enough to take on machine gun fire, use the elements, conjure up some freaky monster from Hell, telekinesis, telepathy, turn invisible, change forms, scrying – the possibilities are fucking endless."

"Emphasis on the last four abilities because they can be a very big security risk." Eric piped in.

Isabel pointed at him with a nod. "Right, and don't even get me started on the necromancy. You know, magic about bringing dead people back to life? What's dead should stay dead. Recommendation? Do yourself a favor; shoot first, ask questions _never_. Remember, a magic user's biggest weakness is their ability to channel it. It is not infinite and eventually, any barrier or spell slinger can be brought down by concentrated fire or if a big enough explosion is dropped on them. Sometimes there is even a thing known as 'mental backlash' where if they try to block something and it's broken, the trauma is reflected on their brain directly. If you're lucky, they die from their brains breaking. Worst case, they're a vegetable but still alive."

"Speaking of necromancy, another thing you should worry about are wraiths or evil spirits." Itami said before he drank a mug of coffee. "Basically, wraiths are someone who was killed but can't move on because of some freaky voodoo stuff. I think we've all seen ghost movies, right? Yeah, not a fun thing to go through. They can do all kinds of damage and the bad thing is, you can't do anything about it. It's a ghost; you can't just kick it in the nuts and shoot it in the face."

Everyone gathered were silent at that prospect. They were so used to fighting enemies they can kill that they did not think they would have to fight spirits. That was some Ghostbusters shit.

"I know this all seems stupid and fucked up to all of you believe me, knowing these things will probably save your ass." Eric said. "We may be more technologically advanced but these guys are no pushovers either so be careful. We've actually reached the end of this seminar but we've prepared a booklet for you." He held up an example of the booklet. "In it is all the information we said and more so be sure to read it very carefully."

Timothy released a breath. "Okay, before we finish this, does anyone have any questions?" There was one soldier who raised his hand and he called him up.

"With all the things you guys said, it looks to me that our standard munitions just won't cut it on some of them." The soldier said. "My cousin's a lawyer so I'll ask you what I asked her. Since this is a whole different world we're going, does this mean we can use illegal munitions like shedder, explosive and incendiary rounds, land mines, poison gas, and nukes? And does this mean the Geneva Convention is non-valid there?"

A very valid question and some of his brothers and sisters-in-arms were very curious about that answer as well. The news teams also waited for the answer.

Eric and the others looked at each other for a minute before turning back. "Umm…we can't answer that correctly because we're not lawyers." Eric said. "But technically, since we are going to a new world here, the Laws of War wouldn't apply. Let's not break out the nukes and nerve gas just yet though; I'm sure the suits upstairs will sort this thing out."

Satisfied with the answer, the soldier sat down and others took this opportunity to raise their own question. Eric picked one, a female marine.

"Talking about necromancy, do you think we'll have to fight… _zombies_? You know the flesh eating kind." She asked and everyone looked at her like she was crazy but deep down, they knew it was a very real thing now.

Timothy stepped forward. "…Well, I don't think you'll have that kind of a problem, but I think it'd be best to be prepared for that possibility. Goddamn, I didn't think a zombie apocalypse would come true."

Eric too was a little nervous about fighting endless hordes of flesh eating zombies but he was sure that would not happen…he hopes. Nevertheless, everyone knows that it could really happen now and thanks to the news teams here, every zombie survivalist would stock up on ammo, guns, and provisions.

They must be having the time of their lives.

After asking several more questions, the seminar concluded and the men and women began to file out but not before getting their own copy of that packet. They had a lot of reading ahead of them.

Timothy sighed as he drank some water. "Man, I didn't think I'd be doing this – teaching the Army and Marines about fantasy."

Isabel chuckled. "Yeah, it's certainly a highlight of my life. I mean, who can say they taught the Army about this stuff?"

"True that."

Over to the table, Eric was talking with Itami. "Hey, man, thanks again for doing this." He gave his friend a smile.

Itami waved him off. "Ah, don't sweat it, Eric. Besides, I owed you one for saving my butt back in that exercise." They both chuckled before he yawned again. "Hey, it's really late here. I got to go to sleep now. Stay safe out there, Eric. Oh and Kuri says hello and she wants to kick your ass."

"Yeah, okay. See you soon, buddy." With that, the connection was cut and Eric closed the laptop. He stood up with a smile and released a sigh of satisfaction. This went extremely well and he hoped this information will help the others stay alive.

All in all, he and the others did a good job. Now, they had to prepare for the next batch. Oh, he could not wait to sway them to the ota – teach them about the enemy.

While they were busy cleaning up and preparing for the next batch, in the main headquarters was Lieutenant General Duncan I. Pearce, the appointed overall commander of all US forces in this war. He was sitting in his office reviewing some supply and troop reports with a glass of iced tea.

LTG Pearce was a hard man with a reputation of having a slow burning but terrible temper. Before the breakout of this war, he was a commander of the US Central Command and had proven himself very capable of wiping out the enemy. His service record shows that he was a man willing to do just about anything to win. General MacArthur he was not but all things considered, he was the perfect man for the job.

When he presented the battle plan to his superiors, it was simple yet effective in the General's opinion. Using their superior firepower, speed and technology, Pearce planned to soften them up first with a coordinated air campaign designed to strike at their infrastructure and smash their forces; specifically, their Navy. After that, they would encircle the Saderan capital in a pincer movement.

One arm, the Marines, would push West and cross the Blue Sea; conducting an air assault and three key coastal villages and then push North. The other arm, the Army, would push North and take the city of Italica before heading East; crossing the Dumas Mountain Range before meeting up with the Marines at the city of Telta.

If accomplished correctly and fast enough, it would leave the enemy forces with virtually no time to react and the capital would be trapped in their grasp.

This war was given the designation of Operation Terrible Resolve.

His plan was bold but it was the most viable one; the President and the National Security Council approved of it but he addressed one issue there as well. He requested that nuclear warheads would be made available to him if the situation, at worst, became dire or FUBAR.

Understandably, almost half of the Council protested at that but after he explained that if they encountered something that they could not defeat conventionally, there was a possibility that they would need the most powerful and the most feared weapon in the US Arsenal. Pearce also stressed that he was not requesting that nukes would be his to use freely, he only asked that the option to use nuclear weapons be open to him if the need ever arrives.

Though they still did not like it, the Council could not refute his argument. President Jameson said that he would take this under careful consideration and would give him an answer shortly.

Two days later, he got his answer. The President authorized the option to use nuclear weapons would be open LTG Pearce. For this operation, he would be given five thermonuclear warheads; three nuclear tipped AGM-158 JASSMs and two B83 thermonuclear bombs. However, the President, Vice President, and the Secretary of Defense would have to give him clearance to use those warheads upon careful observation of his reasons and if no other alternatives could be rationally used.

That was fine with LTG Pearce. To be honest, he did not want to use those nukes but it was better to have something and not need it than do not have it and need it.

Just as he was finishing up, there was a knock on his door. "Come in." The door opened and a Sergeant Major came in. He gave the General a salute which he returned. "What is it"

"Sir, our guest is here."

* * *

 ** _LOCATION: LAGUARDIA AIRPORT – HANGAR 7_**

 ** _DATE: JUNE 15, 2035_**

 ** _TIME: 15:10:12_**

* * *

 **(Play God of War (2018) OST – Echoes of an Old Life)**

Hangar 7 of LaGuardia Airport is the primary headquarters of the Special Missions Units of JSOC and in one of the locker rooms there, the newly promoted Major Derek Westbrook was walking towards his own locker which was empty after he was finished taking a cold shower.

Since he was called back to duty eleven days ago and arrived in LaGuardia Airport, he was promptly promoted to the rank of Major. Most would say that it was a long time coming but to him, it was a bit surprising. Being promoted two ranks above your previous rank is very rare but not unheard of. There were documented cases that this happened before but why would he be moved up?

Immediately after his promotion, he was given his answer.

Derek was to be the field commanders Task Force 117 or Task Force Nemesis under the command of Colonel Chris Summers, his former CO and old friend. It was a new special operations unit comprised of personnel from Special Operations Forces from the four primary branches. That was the reason because out of anyone in the armed forces, Derek was their best man for the job.

In addition, Derek would be given the freedom to personally screen those who would be included in the Task Force. He would accept only the best and he has spent days screening those who would be well suited for the task.

Their mission directives are as follows: infiltrate enemy territory and acquire information about them and the location of the hostages, conduct CSAR operations, sabotage, kill/capture potential HVTs, and if necessary, search and destroy.

It will not be easy by any means but the job was certainly up Derek's alley.

That was over two weeks ago and in just a few hours on June 15, 2035 at exactly 17:00:00, he and his handpicked teams will be going through the Gate. The time was chosen specifically because on the other side of the Gate, it was the dead of night thanks to the data collected by the drones over a period of time.

Those drones had also determined that the terrain was indeed a wide and open plain with rolling hills and slightly forested. The air composition there was virtually the same as Earth's and the gravity was also the same.

All in all, it was like looking at a true copy of their planet. It was a little bit freaky to be honest.

Their objective was to conduct strategic reconnaissance on the area around the other side and make sure that no one was waiting for them when the invasion force comes in four days time. They had prepared for this moment; they had carefully studied the intel they had – those creature, the customs and traditions, and the general battle plan. They practiced drills day after day to hone and sharpen their skills; supplies and equipment were abundant and combat ready.

Derek himself had personally seen to it that his men were trained rigorously for what was to come and what were expected of them

The Americans were more than ready. Soon, they would have their chance at payback.

Derek stopped in his step and slowly turned; he was standing right in front of his locker. His eyes glazed at his name plate; he ran his hand over it before he took a deep breath and released it.

He reached for the combination lock and dialed in the first number. Nine.

" _ **You could've saved them, you fucking monster!"**_

Eight.

" _ **They weren't the mission. Our job was to get you out alive – not them."**_

Nine.

" _ **S-See you…on the other side…sir."**_

One.

" _ **Come home."**_

Click.

The sound of the lock opening snapped Derek from his memories. He did not notice that a single tear fell from his right eye as he slowly opened his locker.

Once it was fully opened, he gazed upon his tactical gear. Derek let out a tired sigh as he looked down in solemn silence. For the sake of his country and his fellow Americans who were killed and captured by the Saderans, it was time to once again become a monster. He steeled himself before he began to get dressed.

Once he was garbed in his battle gear, there was only one thing missing. Reaching into one of the shelves, he pulled out his black neoprene mask. He stared at it for a long while. This was more than just a simple mask, it was symbol off his metamorphosis into another person. Someone who would do terrible things to accomplish his job and this mask was representation of that. This mask represented his dark side; the black hearted monster that thrived in war and conflict.

This was the true face of Frost.

He took a deep breath before he put on the mask. When the mask was secured upon his face, he lowly raised his head up. In his eyes, there was nothing but ice and fury.

Derek was gone. Now, there is only Frost.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **All right, new chapter. The invasion grows nearer and to address some of the comments, calm down. Deep breaths boys and girls. This is just a story, no need to get all genocidal here. Besides, WMDs are only used as a last resort if and only if the reasons are damned valid or you were attacked first and it'll be raining nukes. After all, it's like this. Hey, they attacked us, let's drop a nuke on them, the end. Not a very compelling story now, is it? For the resources? I'm no economics buff but I think a sudden influx of a certain commodity like gold or something could crash the world's markets. Not a very good thing.**_

 _ **Anyway, here you go. This is probably the longest chapter to date and I had a lot of fun writing it. I wanted to show that Derek and Frost were two sides of the same coin. One is a tired and disturbed man while the other was born from the trauma Derek experienced and the many war's he's been in making him like this. He just wants it all to end but at the same time, he can't stop doing it because it's all he knows now.**_

 _ **Hope you guys like that seminar bit. It was kind of fun to write up. Now things will get interesting from here on out. Eric Wilson is a collaborated OC with Cloud Link Zero. A bit of a goofball but he takes his job seriously.**_

 _ **Will the UN and NATO come and back up the US? I can neither confirm or deny this now. Just have to wait and see.**_

 _ **Operation Terrible Resolve. Has a nice ring to it, yeah?**_

 _ **Bet you didn't see Atlas Corp being here coming, did ya? I know some of you're gonna say that Atlas Corporation was just starting out in 2035. It's called creative liberties. Same with the whole jumping two ranks ahead thing. I'm sorry if I got it wrong though. Been researching about it and there have been cases but are rare and only in times of war. I guess that counts here.**_

 _ **Oh, and about them crossover ideas. Particularly the Terminator series…well, let's just say I had a bit of an inspiration but I can't enact it. If anyone's interested, you can PM me for the details and try your hand at it.**_

 _ **This is where the AN ends. Hope you liked this chapter.**_

 _ **Next chapter? Get ready to rock and roll!**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Special thanks to Cloud Link Zero and Trainalf for once again helping me with this story and to all the viewers out there.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter VI – NEMESIS**_

* * *

" _There are hunters, and there are victims. By your discipline, cunning, obedience, and alertness, you will decide if you are a hunter or a victim." – General James Norman Mattis_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: NORTH CAROLINA – FORT BRAGG**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 31, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 06:23:14**_

* * *

Fort Bragg is one of the largest military installations in the world with a population of over fifty-five thousand active duty personnel and their families. It is also home to the United States Army Forces Command, the United States Army Reserve Command, and the United States Army Special Operations Command.

Its tenant units were the 82nd Airborne Division of the XVIII Airborne Corps, the 3rd Special Forces Group of the Green Berets, the Army Compartmented Element and the Joint Communications Unit just to name a few.

It is also the location where the selected members of Task Force 117 were to hone their skills further and familiarize themselves with one another; working on their unit cohesion. Seeing as their enemy focuses primarily on close quarters combat, Major Derek Westbrook and his fellow commanders deemed it necessary for the men to further enhance their CQC prowess.

This includes courses in knife fighting, swordsmanship, archery, hand to hand with an emphasis in dirty fighting, etc. They also studied what intelligence they had on their potential enemies and how to combat them; they had prepared some training situations for these as well.

He also shared this concept to COL Summers, and through him, LTG Pearce. MAJ Westbrook explained that all of the troops should, at least, have and hone some skills in bladed combat and archery. It would considerably increase their overall combat effectiveness; especially if they ever ran out of ammunition since they would be sent into a time period where the two weapons would be found in abundance, be it from towns or the corpses of their enemies.

The two agreed with his reasons and LTG. Pearce made the necessary arrangements to have their forces be trained accordingly. The Major liked to believe that this little detail will help his brothers and sisters-in-arms stay alive in the long run.

Right now, he was dressed in full battle gear minus the mask, was marching together with the men and a few instructors. He said that he would personally see to their training and exercises, and he fully intends to do so.

He kept a stern look on his face as he observed the troops. They were carrying full load of gear and were required to march a five miles round trip through a rough hiking trail back to base in only thirty minutes. After that, it would be training all day. They would do this every day of every morning until Derek sees fit otherwise.

"C'mon, you sons of bitches! You call this running?! My grandma could run circles around you! And she's fucking dead!" One of the instructors so eloquently urged the men to move faster. "Oh, what, you can't take it anymore?! Well, why don't you call your mama! I bet she'll do a better job at this than you fucks!"

This instructor's name was Captain Walter R. Rivera. He is an instructor of the Army's John F. Kennedy Special Warfare Center and School. A hard and very foul mouthed man like any other armed forces instructor but he was considered to be one of the best at his job.

' _Nobody seems to be breaking here. Good.'_ The Major thought to himself as the men pushed on despite CPT Rivera spitting curses at them.

Currently, Task Force Nemesis consists of one hundred and twenty four personnel, including the Major himself. All of them were some of the hardest and meanest sons of bitches from the Armed Services; and some were some of the best at what they do in their respective fields.

They were divided into four platoons. First Platoon, "Relentless", would be under his direct command and consisted of twenty six personnel, and divided into three squads. The members of Relentless are adept in operating in all terrains.

Second Platoon, "Leviathan", would be under the command of First Lieutenant Norris T. Jones, a Marine Raider. They consist of twenty nine personnel and specialize in maritime operations.

Third Platoon, "Tornado", would be under the command of First Lieutenant James Ramirez, a member of the Regimental Reconnaissance Company. They consist of thirty three personnel and specialize in airborne operations.

The Combat Support Group, "Oracle", would be under the command Lance R. Bridgeman, an officer of the SAD/SOG. They consist of thirty five personnel and specialize in rendering combat and intelligence support to the rest of the Task Force.

MAJ Westbrook took great care at those he had chosen; specifically he tried to recruit mostly those with backgrounds in long term and deep penetration deployments because their job was going to be a long and arduous one. There were personnel from all over the Armed Services; primarily those from the Special Ops community.

One could see from the insignias on their uniforms that the soldiers were from the 75th Ranger Regiment, the US Army Special Forces, the Combat Applications Group, the 24th Special Tactics Squadron, the Intelligence Support Activity, the Navy SEALs, Force Recon and Marine Raiders to name just a few of them and the exceptional few from the regular units.

He had no doubt in his mind that in the near future, some foreign Special Operations personnel would be attached to Task Force Nemesis just like the now disbanded Task Force 141. However, that day is too far out to be of any concern for now.

Each of them has earned and proven themselves that they belonged in the Task Force; he only wanted them to be prepared for the new world they would be going into so that is why they were here at Fort Bragg.

At the very back of the troop was 1LT Eric Wilson who jogging at a fair pace. He still could not believe that he was actually here. It has been a long time since he was in Fort Bragg as the last time he was here was when he received Phase II training of Q-Course and was still running with the 3rd Special Forces Group.

Now, 1LT Wilson was back here because he was selected to be part of Task Force 117; its members were some of the best the military had to offer and their primary mission was to find the ones responsible for the attack by any means necessary, and the rescue of the American civilians taken beyond the Gate.

At first, he was surprised when he received this. He merely thought that he was going to teach his fellow brothers and sisters-in-arms what they need to know about what was on the other side, not join an elite group of badasses. Of course, he expected to be deployed into this war sooner or later – it was only natural; but he did not expect it to be this soon.

Furthermore, it was the Task Force field commander himself, the legendary Derek Westbrook, had personally given him his new orders.

Looking over to his left, 1LT Wilson saw the man himself watching them like a hawk; ready to pick off those who would slow them down. The Green Beret gulped a little; he was one of the youngest people in the Task Force and one of the greenest – no pun intended. He did not have as much experience as these men and women have but he believed that he was here for a reason.

Major Derek Westbrook would not have picked him if he did not believe he could do it. 1LT Wilson liked to think that he proved himself to the Major in Time Square several weeks ago.

Well, if that was the case, he was not going to let him down. After all, his life depended on it – figuratively, at least. _**"I'm putting a lot of confidence in you, Wilson. Don't let me down."**_ He remembered what MAJ Westbrook said to him in parting. It sounded like words of encouragement and partly words of threatening.

With those incentives, 1LT Wilson could say that he was more than a little motivated.

' _Oh, man. Even if I do workout, this march is absolute fucking torture.'_ The Green Beret panted mentally. A five mile round trip march in under thirty minutes and carrying full battle gear was a real challenge for anyone. Not to mention that they marching through some hilly and rocky terrain; which made this worse.

Besides, this was only the warm up! Well, at least it gets the blood pumping and they were close to the finish.

"All right, ladies, form up!" CPT Rivera barked out and the troops formed up in a line and stood at attention despite being soaked in sweat and a bit exhausted. MAJ Westbrook walked over and stood beside CPT Rivera; himself breathing a little heavily as well. "All right, now drop and give me fifty!"

The troops gave no discernable reaction as they dropped down and the ground and performed push ups.

"Remember the love, ladies!" CPT Rivera hollered as MAJ Westbrook left to prepare for the day of training. "We got two whole wonderful weeks of bone breaking fun planned out just for you so you best get you funderwear on!"

1LT Wilson grunted as he pushed himself off the ground. _'This is going to be a loooong two weeks…'_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: LAGUARDIA AIRPORT – TERMINAL B**_

 _ **DATE: JUNE 04, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 12:23:14**_

* * *

In one of the VIP quarters of the headquarters of the US invasion force, Count Formal and his two bodyguards were enjoying their lunch and they means that literally.

" _This is delicious."_ One of his bodyguards hummed in satisfaction and they could not agree more with him.

" _Truly."_ Count Formal said before he washed his food down with a glass of iced tea.

Officially, the men who were with him were his bodyguards. Unofficially, they were survivors of what was left of his men after their failed invasion. They were Lorenz Du Koehne, one of trusted Lieutenants and a good friend, and Marius Du Micheaux, a young man who joined Clan Formal's Army.

Though it may not seem much to look at – a simple slab of roasted meat, a mound of cream colored mush covered in some brown stuff and a generous helping of vegetables with some kind of stew on the side. It was extremely delicious compared to the bland food he had been eating for weeks beforehand.

The meat was also tender and gave off a pleasant smoky smell alongside an aromatic taste. The creamy mush was actually mashed potatoes smothered in gravy and it was exquisite; especially if combined with the meat.

All in all, since they got here this was probably the best food they have ever tasted in his life. The Count would have to apologize to his head cook, Julien, and perhaps persuade him and some others to learn how to cook this world's cuisines. He was sure his daughters and his people would love that.

Once they were finished with their meal, they deposited their dirty dishes for pick up and sighed in satisfaction.

" _Once again, a fully satisfied appetite."_ Marius chuckled as he patted his stomach. _"You know, at first I was afraid that this was some kind of cruel trick…lull us into a false sense of comfort before they execute us. But I think they're all right."_

Lorenz nodded. _"Yes. So far, they have kept their word and I'm glad that out comrades are out of the place. But I do hope that Bastard Tertius enjoys his stay there forever."_ He chuckled evilly.

Count Formal gave an amused smirk before he sat down on the sofa and relaxed a bit. The room they were staying in was not five star quality but it was certainly better than the place he and the survivors were imprisoned in.

A day after their first meeting, Lord Caine had informed him that his men would be transferred to a temporary but far more comfortable compound before they can be sent back home. They also explained once again that it would not do them any good if they wandered off as the public had a little bit of a grudge towards the Saderans to say the very least.

Count Formal understood perfectly and he made sure that his men understood it as well which they eventually did. He was, however, allowed to bring two of his men with him. They would then pose as his bodyguards.

Lorenz and Marius both volunteered for the position himself once they were informed of it; though the latter was a bit hesitant at first.

All in all, things were going smoothly in their eyes. Even though they had betrayed their country by allying themselves with the Americans, they justified it by believing that it was for the best for everyone.

Count Formal sighed. To be honest, he had thought he would not be able to convince his men so easily but he did. He would make sure that his promise of returning home to them was fulfilled even if it meant his death.

He could remember how his meeting with the survivors went…

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: CLASSIFIED**_

 _ **DATE: MAY 27, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 14:27:10**_

* * *

Count Colt had waited patiently but anxiously for this moment. Since he has been locked up in that cell, one of the things he would think about was how many were possibly still alive after that failed invasion.

The thought had been eating away at him for quite some time now because he wanted to know who had survived the ordeal.

Two days after he agreed to the United States' terms of being a mediator for them, he was transferred to a much more comfortable room and given food that, at the very least, looked edible.

He was also briefed on what he was supposed to do and who he would answer to. The man in question was a high ranking officer named Lieutenant General Duncan I. Pearce, the appointed supreme commander of the American invasion.

Count Colt would also have the cover story of being a government selected advisor for the General; specializing in Ancient Roman and Medieval cultures and politics. Only LTG Pearce and a select few would know about his true identity for obvious reasons; reasons that the Count understood well.

Other than that, he was more than ready to do his end of the bargain but first, he had to see his men as was promised to him. Today was that day and he fiddled with his fingers to keep himself calm as he waited for the go ahead from Lord Caine who was with him.

" _Calm down, Count Formal. You'll get to see your men soon enough. Though I'll have to warn some of them may not appreciate it that you cut a deal with us. Especially that prick you call an Imperial Legate and those loyal to him."_

Count Formal understood that possibility. He basically betrayed his country – granted that country was mostly led by corrupt and power hungry vipers. However, he was confident that could he persuade his men to understand.

The true problem lay in Tertius and those loyal to him. It should be obvious that Count Formal had no intentions of picking that bastard to be freed. In the terms of the Americans, he called it payback for the stupidity of that Legate's orders.

" _Do not fear, my friend. I am confident that I can make my men understand my reasons."_ Count Formal reassured the American. _"But what you say is true, there is still that possibility. Furthermore, I fear Tertius would see this as an act of treason and try to kill me."_

Edward frowned a little. _"We anticipated as much so we have riot teams and shooters on standby should things get ugly. If they try anything…well, it'll be the last thing they'll ever try."_ Count Formal was the US Government's investment and they would be damned if someone killed him here.

Count Formal gave him a grateful smile. _"Thank you for the assurance, Lord Caine. And thank you for arranging this. It brings me peace of mind to finally see those who survived."_

" _Don't mention it, Count Formal."_ Edwards graciously waved off his thanks before he was notified that it was time to go. _"Okay, it's time. They're just on the other side of this door here. Remember, we got you covered if things get ugly."_

" _I know and thank you once again."_

Edwards smiled before he left. Once he was gone, Count Formal sighed. Beyond this door were what remained of the Saderan invasion force. All of them would be confused, angry and afraid, and it was up to him to alleviate their anxiety somehow.

Nodding to himself, the Count opened the door and stepped through.

* * *

In the observation room, Edward Caine has just entered it just as Count Formal entered the inner courtyard. "Well, so far so good, I guess." He commented as Count Formal was swarmed by his men, asking loads of questions.

"There are a lot of things that could go wrong with this, Caine." A woman who stood beside Edward said. She was CIA Senior Agent Avery S. Grant; she was the one assigned to oversee the imprisonment of the Saderans. "You shouldn't have made that promise in the first place."

Edwards shrugged. "His job entails that he spread word to the indigenous people that we mean them no harm – for the most part – when we make contact with them. As far as I'm concerned, he's doing his task right now." He nodded his head towards the monitor that shows the Count calming down the prisoners and conversing with them.

Agent Grant huffed silently, conceding his point. "That's true. But what I'm worried about is that Tertius guy. Before Formal got in there, he was trying to convince the others to start a revolt. When he hears what Count Formal has done, he'll see it as treason and may kill him."

"Well, we'll just have to take care of it." Edward said. "He is our investment after all."

* * *

As soon as he passed the threshold, Count Formal saw that it was a very large chamber of some sorts. It looked to be a massive indoor courtyard or something that was filled with clearly disorientated men talking and looking about nervously.

He could also see that there were men with weapons patrolling the overhead pathways. Well, it would seem that Lord Caine spoke truly about his safety being assured. After all, the Count was useful to the United States and it would be foolish of them to let him be killed like that.

" _Count Formal!"_ A voice drew his attention and the Count smiled at recognizing the man. It was one of his Lieutenants and a trusted friend, Lorenz Du Koehne. The man, followed by many others, jogged to reunite with their lord. _"Thank the Gods, I though you perished as well."_ Lorenz said in relief, bowing his head at his Count as well as the others.

" _It is good to see you all again, my friends."_ Count Formal replied. _"I thought I was the only one until I learned there were others who survived as well."_ He looked at what remained of his men and he could not help but be saddened. Most of them were scarred; some were missing eyes and limbs, while others were disfigured with horrible burns and wounds. _"…Are you all that's left?"_

At his question, the men lowered their heads in sadness. _"…I'm afraid so, Milord."_ A young man with the lower half of his leg missing. _"My centuriae encountered one of those flying monsters. W-We tried to shoot it down but it was so fast and our arrows and spears just bounce off its hide."_ He took a few calming breaths to steady himself. _"Then…it breathed fire upon us and when I came to…I was missing my leg and…I was the only one left alive."_

The Count heard many similar accounts of the men going through different but no less gruesome and hopeless ordeals. It made him feel extremely luck that his body was still intact knowing that the same could have happened to him.

" _All in all, Milord, I counted…one hundred and three of our men who survived."_ Lorenz said in sorrow. _"...May their souls find peace by Zufmuut's grace."_

The Count was saddened that out of the two thousand men he brought with him, only one hundred and three of his men remained. A grave tragedy and terrible reminder of the American's overwhelming might but he took comfort in knowing that even then, one hundred and three had survived and most would go home.

"… _Words cannot express the pain I feel in hearing this tragedy."_ Count Formal lamented. Truly, he hoped that there souls would find peace wherever they are now. _"What has happened since that day?"_

" _As you would expect. We were taken prisoner by these…Americans. Though, I found it strange that they treated my wounds at all and I can say the same for the others."_ At Lorenz's words, most of the men muttered in agreement. _"Even when they interrogated me, there was no torture. To be honest, I did not expect even the slightest leniency from them on account of us trying to invade them."_

Count Formal hummed. _"Yes, if it was any faction back at our homeland, we would have been flogged or much worse. Did any of you know that there were other survivors as well until now?"_

As he expected, he saw all of them shake their heads. _"No, I learned of this a little under two days ago, Milord. I was kept in isolation ever since I found myself here."_

" _Aye."_

" _Me too."_

" _Same for me."_

These were the responses of them men and Count Formal nodded. All of them were kept completely separated from one another so that they would think that they were all that was left. That would have been a very hard thing to carry; he should know since he went through the same thing.

Lorenz cleared his throat and Count Formal turned to him. _"Forgive me, Milord, but do you know a means to escape? I've tried to find a way to escape but it's near impossible."_ He could hear most of them men mumbling in agreement to his statement.

" _Don't bother, my friend."_ The Count shook his head. _"This prison is large and it is like a labyrinth, and even if you managed to overpower your captors, you would still be alone and killed if and when they hunt you down."_

Most of them men groaned in frustration but Lorenz was still not convinced. _"Yes, but we are together now. I heard that Lord Siricus that he is attempting an escape attempt. We can use our numbers to swarm them and fight our way out. There is a few hundred men here including us, I'm sure that would be enough."_

Count Formal looked for Siricus and sure enough, he was trying to convince the others of his escape plan with most seemingly agreeing with him. He shook his head before he turned back to his own men.

" _No. Lorenz, most of the men here are missing arms and legs. Least of all, we don't have any weapons; we won't stand a chance. If that's not enough, look up."_ At his word, his men looked up and their eyes widened at seeing dozens of men in black carrying those horrible weapons walking about. One of them who were leaning on the railings even waved at them. _"It's hopeless. We would be slaughter the moment we attempt an escape."_

"… _Then…that's it, I suppose."_ A man said sadly. _"Our fate is to sit here either to be executed later or to rot here for the rest of our days."_ The reality finally hit them that escape was truly impossible. _'…I'll never get to see my wife and children again…'_

" _On the contrary, there may be a way for us to return home."_ At his words, the mem snapped their attention to their Count. Now, he knew he had to choose his words carefully to persuade them that this was the best course of action.

" _T-There is? How, Milord?"_

Before he could explain further, the good Legate decided to approach them followed survivors of the Legions and some who the Count recognized as lords and heirs of the aristocracy back home. Some of them have suffered grave injuries but most were intact more or less.

" _Ah, Count Formal. It's fortunate to see you alive."_ Tertius smiled and the Count could see that he was missing a few teeth.

" _Imperial Legate Siricus."_ Count Formal greeted amicably. _"It is good to see you as well. I thought you had been killed when I saw you being swarmed by the Americans."_

Tertius frowned at that, remembering the harsh beating and humiliation he was subjected to. _"As you can see, I stand before you alive and well. These savages have no honor – striking someone of my stature. When we return to the capital, the Empire will learn of their barbarism and I will lead an army a million strong to crush these vermin myself."_

While Count Formal's men were not as enthusiastic, the aristocrats were voicing their approvals. _"What has happened since you woke up?"_

" _They tried to torture me for information about the Empire."_ Tertius said before he smirked smugly. _"The fools. They should have known that the spirit of a true warrior of Sadera cannot and will not be broken."_

That is not what Count Formal heard. He had learned that the first time Teritus was interrogated; he acted defiant at first before he broke down in a blubbering mess at the first sign of pain. He practically begged the Americans to not hurt him before he spilled his guts to them.

The Count knew the Imperial Legate was just hiding his own weakness and tricking himself to believing he stood would let him think whatever he wants to; it did not matter to Count Formal.

" _I see."_ He said before he leaned a little bit closer to Tertius. _"I heard you were talking about attempting an escape. Is this true?"_

Tertius nodded. _"Yes. I have formulated a plan that can get us out of here."_

" _Forgive me, Lord Siricus, but an escape is impossible."_ Lorenz tried to reason before he received a harsh glare from the Imperial Legate.

" _You will speak when spoken to, peasant. Learn to hold your tongue when your superiors are talking."_ The Imperial Legate said condescendingly but he was surprised when that same peasant growled at him.

" _My apologies, you high born fuck, but considering where we are now, titles and nobility mean as much as a pile of horse manure!"_

" _W-Why you insolent…!"_ Tertius was outraged. How dare this lowborn speak to him that way! He was about to back hand this bastard and remind him of his place before he was beaten to the punch – literally.

Lorenz already knew that the bastard of an Imperial Legate was about to strike him. In any other day, he might have taken the blow like the good dog he was supposed to. Now though, he was not as complacent as he was back home so he struck the Imperial Legate square on the jaw and he swore he saw a tooth fly out of his mouth.

Tertius grunted in pain as he stumbled to the floor, holding his bloodied face. _"Y-You…how dare you!"_ He screamed in a nasally voice; his nose was probably broken as well. _"Kill him! I want his head for this!"_ He commanded and those loyal to him advanced on Lorenz who was prepared to fight.

He would not fight alone, however, as is fellow comrades stood by his side.

Before things could escalate any further, Count Formal got between the two groups. _"My friends, please! This is not the time or place to fight amongst ourselves!"_

Though the two groups still looked ready to tear each other apart, they begrudgingly stood down. They saw the wisdom in the Count's words and it would not serve them any good to start killing each other.

Tertius growled as he was helped up by two of his men. _"I won't stand for this Count! I demand retribution!"_

" _You are in no position to make demands, Tertius!"_ Count Formal snapped back and causing the Imperial Legate to flinch. _"But what he says is true; escape is impossible. Most of us are missing limbs and suffered grave injuries, and we do not have any weapons to fight with. We also do not knew where in Zuffmutt's name we are and how to get out. Lastly, if all of you have not noticed, we are being watched right now."_ To prove his point, he pointed upwards.

Tertius and the others looked up to see that they were being watched by dozens of those powerful mages who were all looking down at them. The Imperial Legate's eyes widened in fear, remembering the time he was tortured but squashed in down.

" _Bah! They cannot kill all of us. The moment a door opens, we rush at it. Then we capture one of them and make him tell us how to escape and how to use their weapons."_

Count Formal massaged his temples in frustration. _"And I suppose you'll be leading the charge?"_

Tertius scoffed. _"No. I am an Imperial Legate of the Saderan Empire, I am not obligated to lead the charge. That honor will be given to that fucker who struck me."_ He pointed to Lorenz who did not even looked fazed.

Count Formal's eyes narrowed in realization. _"You would sacrifice mine and your men to act as meat shields?!"_

" _Of course."_ Tertius said nonchalantly. _"They are lowborn; meant to serve and die for their betters. After all, they have to do as I say as I am an Imperial Legate of the Empire."_

Count Formal growled at this bastard before he looked back at his men. He could see that they were in no condition to fight and would indeed be slaughtered by the Americans. Lorenz looked at him and the Count gave him a reassuring nod before turning back to Tertius.

" _I'm sorry, but I will not be a part of you plan."_

This shocked the Imperial Legate and those with him. _"W-What are you…?"_

" _I will not allow any of my men suffer any longer."_ The Count clarified. _"If you want to throw your soldiers' lives away, then be my guest but I want no part of your plans of suicide."_

Tertius' face turned red in anger. _"So you are content to stay here and rot for the rest of your days?!"_

The Count shook his head. _"No. As I was about to say when you walked up, I have my own means of freedom."_ What he said made everyone look at him in surprise, including his own men.

" _Truly? Then pray tell what this escape plan you have in mind is."_ Tertius challenged.

Count Formal took in a deep breath of air; it was time to reveal the truth. _"I have made a pact with the Americans."_

There was only silence when his words finally registered in their brains. Everyone, even his own men, was looking at him in shock. He could not blame them; the Count was looked upon as a man of integrity and honor. They did not think that he was capable of betraying his oaths.

"… _Y-You…Y-You…"_ Tertius spluttered but was unable to say anything so Count Formal continued.

" _In exchange for my help, they have agreed to let my men and I, along with those of my choosing to be granted amnesty for our crimes and safe passage home."_

Tertius finally got over his shock and he saw nothing but red. _"YOU TRAITOR!"_ He was about to lunge at the filth until a loud bang rang out and a snap was heard.

" _ **I WOULDN'T DO THAT IF I WERE YOU, BUB."**_

From up top, the men readied their weapons and aimed at the crowd who grew restless at seeing the objects of their nightmares. The guards were ordered to protect the Count so they will.

" _Please don't do anything rash, Tertius. Those men are ordered to protect me and I would rather not see anymore of my countrymen dead."_

While afraid that he will be shot, Tertius snarled at this piece of sewage in front of him that dared to call itself a Noble. _"Your countrymen?! You do not get to call us your countrymen! You have betrayed Sadera herself to these savages! When the Empire hears of this, you, your daughters, and your people will suffer greatly!"_

What he says was true and there was no denying it; Count Formal had betrayed his home. He looked down in slight shame for it before he felt an arm grab him from behind. When he looked, it was Lorenz who bore an almost pleading face.

" _My lords…please tell us you are just jesting."_ He sounded like he was begging; desperately trying to believe that their noble Count had not become a snake. _"Please…tell me it isn't true."_

"… _I'm sorry, my friend…but it is."_

Lorenz jolted back as he and the rest looked at their Count with nothing but contempt. _"You were one of the noblest men we have ever known…a man who preached of honor, loyalty, duty, and compassion. Now all I see is a deceiver. You have not just betrayed your country and us but you betrayed yourself!"_

Count Formal took it all in as he believed that he deserved it. _"I cannot blame you for how you see me now."_ He said regretfully before he looked at all of them in the eye. _"But I say this. Is it truly betraying oneself if your enemy stands for the same principles you do?"_ He knew this philosophy had some glaring flaws in it but it would have to make due for now. _"Despite what Tertius might say, these Americans are not savages. They know the meaning of honor and compassion. If not, they would not have treated our wounds, not give us food and water, and would not have kept us alive once we've served our usefulness to them."_

" _Spare us your words, Colt!"_ Tertius shouted. _"No matter what you say, nothing will ever justify your betrayal of Sadera!"_

Count Formal glared at the Imperial Legate. _"You may call me a traitor but I call you a hypocrite, Tertius, for it is you who betrayed Sadera first."_ Now all eyes turned to Tertius who looked scandalized.

" _What?! What are you talking about? Is it not enough that you have committed treason, now you accuse me of the same thing?!"_

The Count huffed. _"Call it what you will, but you said that you stood defiant against your captors. But the Americans told me that you gave them information and begged for mercy before they even drew a single drop of blood."_ He could see the Imperial Legate's eyes widen in surprise and he smirked.

" _D-Do not make claims that you know nothing about, Colt!"_ He tried to sound tough but deep down, he was panicking. _'Those damn savages must've told him! If this gets out, I'll lose my head! No matter, he doesn't have any proof.'_

Count Colt said nothing and Tertius smirked until he looked up. _"A little help please?"_

The men were confused and looked around for a bit before they jumped in surprise as some kind of illusion sprung up. Upon closer inspection, Tertius' eyes widened in shock. It was him when he was first interrogated!

It showed Tertius strapped to a chair in a dimly lit room together with a woman. Just like he claimed, the Imperial Legate stood defiant but all his bravado stopped the woman drew out a knife and he began to panic as it drew near to him. When it was just a mere inch away from his face, he finally cracked; agreeing to give them everything they wanted in exchange to not hurting him.

What followed is Tertius spilling his guts out before the illusion was lifted.

Everyone looked at the humiliated Tertius with a look of shame. They could have understood if he broke under mind breaking amounts of torture as he had claimed; but he squealed like a dirty pig at the first time he saw a knife. What a disgrace for an Imperial Legate.

"… _Be that as it may."_ Lorenz gave the thoroughly disgraced Tertius one last look before he turned to the Count. _"I may not like it that you betrayed Sadera…but you would not have done it without good cause. I think I speak for everyone that we want to hear it."_

* * *

Up on the walkways, a guard was leaning on the rails and helping himself to some peanuts as he observed the prisoners. Moments ago, there was a very close call but it looks like things have calmed down a bit and they were not talking.

"Hey, man," Another guard joined him and he offered a few peanuts which was graciously accepted. "What do you think their saying?"

"Fuck if I know. I'm just waiting for the fireworks to happen when the piggy tries to run."

* * *

Count Formal nodded, happy that they were giving him a chance to explain. _"Thank you."_ He then went on to explain just how hopeless and unwinnable this war between the Saderan Empire and the United States of America really was.

He told them that out of all the countries the Gate opened up to, the United States was the most powerful and possessed the single most powerful military in their world. The Americans possessed horrible weapons that made what they have suffered in their initial attack look like simple sparks; especially the weapon that destroyed an entire island in one fell swoop.

The Count described a great ball of fire that drowned the sky and sea in red as it engulfed an enemy of the United States in its hellish fury. When all it was said and done, there was nothing left but ash and the burnt corpses of millions.

The men paled at such destructive power; imagine what would happen if such a weapon were to be unleashed upon their homes.

Furthermore, Count Formal explained that in the eyes of this world's inhabitants, they did not just declare war on the United States but also their entire world which had a total population of over seven billion.

In response to the Saderan's attack, the heads of state of every nation were prepared to send millions upon millions of troops and monstrosities through the Gate in retaliation and to reduce Falmart and everything in it to ash.

This scared the living shit out of the Saderans. They could only imagine what kind of devastation would occur once that happens.

" _But as I said, the Americans know mercy."_ Count Formal said. _"They have agreed to persuade the other countries to let them handle this as long as I help them. They only require me as a mediator between parties. Explain to the other entities that they need not fear as the Americans are only at war with the Saderans and not them. They do not want any unnecessary bloodshed to occur."_

The others looked at each other; mumbling in thought. They realized that war with just the United States alone was a very fruitless endeavor and will result in utter defeat and annihilation if they so choose; going to war with an entire world of seven fucking billion was pure insanity.

However, if what the Count was saying was true, then the United States was willing to persuade the other countries to hold back and spare as many lives as they could if and when they come through the Gate. This was a strange concept to them because normally, an invading army would just lay waste to their enemy's lands; killing, raping, and enslaving as many of the people they could as a way to subjugate them.

"… _But why, Milord?"_ A young man asked. _"Would it not be easier for them to just…slaughter everything that gets in their way?"_ Of course, he was not asking for this unbeatable Army to truly go berserk on his home but he was only curious.

" _Because they do not want that."_ Count Formal explained. _"Think. If an army like the one we faced only many times larger would truly fight with brutality; there would be nothing left to stand on."_ At that, everyone nodded grimly in understanding. _"Lord Caine explained to me that even though the Saderans were to blame for this, they do not want the rivers of Falmart to run red with blood. That's why they need me. They were gracious enough to give me this chance to lessen the death toll and to save as many lives as possible."_

" _How do you know they will keep their word, Milord?"_ Lorenz asked.

" _All of us are still breathing, Lorenz."_ The Count replied before he sighed tiredly. _"I know what I have done is dishonorable in your eyes but I did not think of myself when I accepted their offer. Can you imagine the carnage if Emperor Molt orders all able bodied men to fight them? Wives would be left without their husbands and children without their fathers. Then who would defend our families from roving bandits and raiding monsters? I refuse to let that happen."_

What ensued were a few minutes of silent contemplation but Lorenz stepped forward. _"Count Formal, we followed you into these strange lands knowing that we may never come back alive. Now, that you have collaborated with these Americans…I don't know what to think. But if what you say is true and they truly do not wish the innocents harm…I will follow you again."_ As a sign of acceptance, he and the other men bowed their heads.

Count Formal had his reasons to shift his loyalties to the American and they were not for selfish gains but to save lives from a vengeful yet merciful country. As far as they were concerned, that was what the Count they knew would do.

Count Formal smiled in relief; glad that he was able to convince his men of his decision.

" _You can't be serious!"_ A noble, Herm Fule Maio, shouted. _"All of you are thinking about betraying the Empire in her hour of need!"_

Count Formal recognized him as a former member of the Rose Order before he was dismissed because of…unsavory actions. _"This war was lost before we even threw the first spear. All we can do now is control the damage."_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: LAGUARDIA AIRPORT – TERMINAL B**_

 _ **DATE: JUNE 04, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 12:25:02**_

* * *

Although the Count was glad that he was able to convince all of his men, he was not so successful in convincing the aristocrats and the remaining Imperial soldiers. They would rather die than become a traitor.

Well, it would have been useless either way as they would be persecuted by American justice for their crimes were too great to be pardoned. He could not have secured their freedom even if he wanted to.

' _They made their choice…actually, it's not like they had a choice anyway.'_ Count Formal chuckled before his thoughts went back to his men.

Standing up, he walked to the window and observed the awesome sight of the American army moving about. It was both an awe inspiring and frightening sight to behold even after five days of being here.

The first time they came here by way of those flying metal eagles they call airplane – which was a very exhilarating experience – he and his bodyguards could not believe their eyes as they saw just how massive this city was.

After the initial shock wore off, they were greeted with a sight that made them utterly piss themselves. The waters surrounding the island they had invaded were filled to the brim with massive iron warships and the skies were swarming with those iron dragons.

Once they finally landed on the American's main camp, even from within the confines of the airplane, they could see just how massive and powerful this army truly was. Whatever they faced when they invaded this country was nothing compared to this.

As they disembarked, they could see thousands of soldiers marching, many of their iron behemoths thundering about, dozens of their dragons resting on the ground, and one of those massive warships docked as the far end of the camp.

Even though it was a fair distance away, they could still see just how massive it truly was. They were willing to wager that just one of those ships can wipe out the entire Saderan Navy just by ramming them.

What is more, this is not even close to their full strength. If the Americans really did go full force, the Count shuddered to think what would happen. The only real reason they could not was because the Gate itself was too small for their entire army to go through.

" _I still can't believe it, Milord."_ Lorenz came up beside Count Formal. _"To think, we survived facing such a powerful foe and lived…though barely."_ He shook his head slightly. _"How many do you think will perish in this war?"_

Count Formal released a breath. _"Many. Casualties in war cannot be avoided, my friend. You know this. But the death toll won't be as high as I previously feared, and I shall endeavor to do just that."_

Lorenz nodded. _"And I'll do whatever I can to help, but knowing the stupidity of most of the Senators and Legates at the Capital, they might do something that seriously harms the people."_ His thought lingered on his family being killed because of some bastard of a Legate's idiotic strategy.

It has happened before and there was no reason to believe that it will not happen again.

" _I'm sure the Americans will handle it. Moreover, if my hunch is correct, Molt will call upon Meridius to once again lead the Legions to war. He is a good man; he will not allow such a thing to happen under his command."_ Count Formal said. Though he may not know the man personally, he has heard that Meridius was an honorable man and cares for the people. The Count hopes that he survives this war.

" _I suppose we'll just have to hope for the best but expect the worst."_ Lorenz sighed and the Count nodded in response. _"…My wife must think I'm dead…so do my children."_ He lamented.

Count Formal could sympathize with the man. He could even begin to think what his daughters were going through upon hearing of his supposed death. The mere thought broke his heart. Though he can rest easy that King Duran shall take care of Myui and his people until he and his men return home.

" _We shall return to our loved ones, my friend. That I promise you."_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SADERA – IMPERIAL ARMY HEADQUARTERS**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 13, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 17:48:26**_

* * *

It was late noon in the Capital of the Saderan Empire and inside the War Room of the army barracks, Imperial Legate Woldemar Vi Meridius was carefully studying the map of Falmart; specifically the region of Alnus Hill.

Immediately after he was given command of the Army, Meridius sent messengers to all of the Legion Commanders of the situation and ordered them to prepare for war and for the Northern and Eastern Legions to march to the capital while the Western Legions were to assemble as the city of Italica.

It would take time though as the Western Legions were very far away.

As of right now, out of the thirty seven Legions of the Army, only the 4th, 9th, and 17th Legions have reached the capital. Meridius knew this would happen; even if the all Legions marched non stop to the capital, it would take an estimated three months before the whole Army was assembled and an additional month for them to march to Alnus Hill.

To lessen the time, Meridius planned to have the three available Legions under the command of Godasen, an Imperial Legate and a Senator, to march straight away to Alnus Hill and rendezvous with the armies of the vassal kingdoms. At the very least, they will have a sizeable force guarding the Hill but it would still take them weeks to get there.

Meridius did not want someone like Godasen to lead those Legions due to his less than stellar tactical capabilities but his hands were tied in the matter. The Senate had pressured him to have Godasen lead the Legions as a form of publicity to boost morale. He tried to resist it and appoint a far more worthy commander but the political pressure was too much when the Emperor agreed with the Senate's proposition.

The Supreme Commander did not dislike Godasen per say as he was an amicable fellow but he was simply not the man for the task. Alas, there was little he could do at this point so he would just have to hope for the best.

All in all, it would take four to five months before the Saderan Army would be even close to fully mobilized and make the march to Alnus Hill. Time that the Supreme Commander knew they did not have.

Meridius narrowed his eyes at Alnus Hill. If he was to believe the accounts of the seventeen lucky men who came back, then the American were able to mobilize a small but overwhelming force in just under an hour.

' _They responded in less than an hour. I'd be impressed if we weren't at war.'_ He though to himself. That was a fast response, he had to admit, and that is his biggest problem. The Imperial Army would take months to assemble but based from those accounts, Meridius estimated the Americans would only need a few short weeks to be ready.

He hoped he was wrong.

For Hardy's sake, for all Meridius knew, the Americans were already entrenched in Alnus Hill!

That was another enormous problem. Meridius spent numerous sleepless nights trying to find a way to defeat the Americans. Every possible scenario, he took into account; every terrain, every tactic, every advantage he had that he could use. Alas, he could only for see one possible outcome for every plan he cooked up.

Utter defeat and a mountain of bodies.

There was absolutely no way the Imperial Army could stand up to the Americans in a head on fight; they would be ripped to shreds and he was not willing to throw his men needlessly to their deaths.

When he and the other commanders convened with the Emperor and surprisingly, the _crown prince_ ,to present their war strategy a few days ago, those so called Legates wanted to throw every last man against the Americans and _**hope**_ they overwhelm them.

What is worse was their willingness to employ the scorched earth tactics. How stupid can they be?! Naturally, Zorzal agreed to this plan like the bloodthirsty idiot that he is.

When Emperor Molt asked Meridius of his opinion, he flat out denied their plans. Reasoning that with the loss of seven legions, they could not afford to needlessly throw away the lives of their soldiers on the gamble that sheer numbers alone would do it.

As for the scorched earth tactic, he explained to them that since the American have control of the Gate, they have an unlimited supply chain from within their own camp. Thus rendering this tactic useless and would only harm them instead of the Americans.

Emperor Molt approved of his reasons and the others were forced to do so as well. When asked of what they should do, Meridius explained his strategy.

The Imperial Army cannot stand against the Americans should they consolidate their hold on Alnus Hill. Their only chance was to get to Alnus Hill first before the Americans do and surround it before they can gain a foothold.

He explained that the narrow passage of the Gate itself would funnel the Americans little by little and their forces would then have a fighting chance. Though it would come at a high cost whether they succeeded or not.

However, the Imperial Army will take months to assemble and march to the Hill. He proposed that they call upon the vassal states to summon their armies and march North to the Hill where they will be met by the three legions he had already dispatched.

Hopefully, they would be enough to stave off the American's invasion.

If they fail to stop the Americans from taking the Hill, then they would only delay the inevitable. They must secure Alnus Hill before the Americans can come or there would be nothing to stop them; no matter how many men, mages, or monsters the Empire can throw at them.

Most of the commanders and Zorzal mocked Meridius for his plan; calling him a coward for giving up after one battle but Emperor Molt knew he was right.

He had seen what the Americans can do and Molt held no illusions that his army can stand up to such might. However, this also posed an opportunity for him. The leaders of the vassal states have been a thorn at his side for years now and he has been hearing rumors of a possible revolt.

Molt could use this to his advantage.

With that in mind, he approved of Meridius' plan and told him to do whatever it takes to be victorious; a decision that left Zorzal and the other commanders fuming. He also agreed at the Supreme Commander's proposal of calling up the vassal states and ordered him to do so at once.

Meridius knew that look in Molt's eyes but he had no other choice. He would just have to make sure nothing completely ruinous happens.

With the approval of the Emperor, the Supreme Commander sent missives to the vassal states but he had yet to receive a reply. Well, he could not be so impatient because the messengers would have to move around Alnus Hill and they were sent three days ago; it would take far longer than normal for a reply to get to him.

Just then, the doors burst open. _"Meridius! Is it true?! Are we really at war?!"_ The Great Commander had to hold back a sigh as he recognized whose voice was this. Turning around, he saw two individuals in the room with him.

One was the Piña Co Lada, the fifth child of the Emperor and leader of the Rose Order of Knights. The other was her older step-brother, Publius Si Maximus, the fourth child of Molt through a concubine and Meridius' protégé.

If he was honest with himself, these two were probably the only members of the Royal Family he got along with.

" _I-I'm sorry, sir, I tried to stop her._ " Publius said before casting his sister a withering glare which she ignored.

" _No need."_ Meridius responded with a sigh. _"You and I both know the princess can't be denied if she wants it. And to answer your question, Milady, yes, we are at war."_

Piña's face hardened. _"So it is true…"_ She mumbled. The princess was visiting her mother at the city of Telta together with Bozes and Panache when they heard of the news that the Empire was attacked.

They immediately dropped everything and headed straight for the capital after saying goodbye to Countess Nell, of course. They rode for five days before they finally reached Sadera.

Piña ordered her two subordinates to have the Order ready while she goes to her father and find out if it was true. By chance, she bumped into her step-brother, Publius, who was on his way to meet with Meridius. Knowing that she will get more information from her teacher, she told her brother that she wanted to meet with Meridius with or without his consent.

" _What kind of enemy are we facing?"_ The Princess asked.

Meridius' face darkened. _"Something we cannot hope to defeat conventionally. Before you say otherwise, Piña, the entire Senate including your father and I witnessed the kind of carnage our enemy – the Americans – can do. Believe me; what we've seen would be akin to the Army of Emroy laying waste to our lands. Our armies would be slaughtered before they can even get near them."_

Piña now know that this was serious because she had never seen Meridius so shaken up about something. _"...What's the plan?"_

Meridius told the two of the strategy he found most viable and when he was done, Publius decided to voice his input.

" _But, if what you say is true, then the American's will have consolidated their foothold on Alnus Hill by the time we're ready. Even if those three legions joined with the vassal states, it could be weeks."_ His protégé reasoned and the Supreme Commander nodded grimly.

" _I know…but we realistically can't do anything about it. All we can do is pray to the Gods for more time and a whole lot of luck. I've already sent a small force there to observe the Gate if there's any activity. So far there is none, thank the gods."_

Piña raised a brow. _"You never were a religious man, Meridius. What changed?"_

Meridius chuckled. _"Yes, well, considering the circumstances, I think we'll need all the help we can get."_

The three shared a short laugh before Piña cleared her throat. _"I shall go talk to father. Maybe I can convince him to let my Order and I help in the war effort."_

The Supreme Commander shook his head. _"Doubtful. But on the possibility that he does allow you, I want to you ride to Italica and prepare it for the arrival of the Western Legions. I think young Myui will appreciate the company of a friend."_

The Princess nodded solemnly. Count Fortunato Umbrius Formal was one of the few lords she considered a close friend. He had been one of her teachers and taught her to be a wise and strong yet compassionate princess.

When she heard of his apparent demise, Piña mourned his death. Falmart had lost a great man. By all accounts, she considered the old Count as a second father of sorts.

"… _Thank you."_ With that, the Princess departed to go talk to her father.

"… _We can't win this…can we?"_ Publius asked once he was sure his step-sister was gone.

Meridius turned back to the map. _"…No, we can't. Many will perish in this war. The funny thing is, this could all have been avoided if your father didn't think it was a good idea to send seven legions through the Gate…but that doesn't matter now."_

Publius hummed. He always knew his father would do all he could to get more power but he always was smart about it. Sending an army through the Gate was a gamble…a gamble he obviously lost. _"Oh, forgive me, I almost forgot."_ He fished out a missive and handed it to the Supreme Commander.

Meridius read it and he was pleased that the 10th and 15th Legions from the Northern Armies were only a day away from the capital and would be here by morning. _"Good man but we still need more men."_

His protégé nodded before he remembered that strange otherworldly weapon the survivors managed to retrieve. _"What about that strange weapon? Have the mages figured out how to use it?"_

" _No, unfortunately."_ Meridius shook his head. _"It would've been an invaluable asset if we could mass produce it for our soldiers but the mages can't figure it out. A man has already been killed trying to find a way to use it."_

He remembered it well as the Supreme Commander was there. He will never forget the crack of thunder the thing produced and the thumb sized hole it left on the poor bastard's face.

" _Maybe there won't be time for them to unlock its secrets."_ Publius sighed. _"I know this is against everything we've been trained to do but what if we negotiate with the Americans. If we could come to an agreement, we can avoid further conflict."_

" _I wouldn't be against it."_ Meridius nodded. _"But I don't think most of the Senate and the Legates would agree to this. Furthermore, we don't know what the Americans would ask of us. They could demand that we submit to their rule."_

Publius conceded to his reasons. _"I understand. That is, considering they even want to negotiate."_

" _Yes…which I doubt will happen."_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SADERA – SOUTH PALACE**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 13, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 18:35:15**_

* * *

In the palace of Prince Zorzal El Caesar, the aforementioned prince was laying on his bed naked as he stated up at the roof of his grand bed. Since he returned from that dreadful meeting, he was in a foul mood and he took it out on his slaves.

That Meridius…always trying to be the better leader when it was he, the Prince, who should be followed into battle and not him. He was the fucking Crown Prince and the future Emperor of the Saderan Empire!

' _Father should have had him executed then and there…'_ He seethed in anger. He always knew that Meridius was a fucking coward and he proved it at the War Council.

What was worse was that his father actually agreed with his plan! The Empire was more powerful than ever, why were they so afraid of this upstart of a country from beyond the Gate?!

Theses… _Americans_ would fall just like their enemies before and when they were slaughtered, Zorzal will personally lead the lead the army and conquer those lands as he did with the Lagoans, Lupins, and Macskans.

There was a knock on his door and Tyuule stepped in. _"My prince, your dinner has been prepared in the dining hall."_ She said plainly with her head low.

Feeling a bit famished, Zorzal nodded. _"Fine."_ He grunted before he got dressed and exited his chambers.

Once he was out, Tyuule looked at the foot of the bed and saw the naked and broken bodies of that woman and her daughter.

They were covered in bruises, cuts, and were bleeding from their…various orifices; especially the girl. They were alive but just barely thanks to the insatiable appetite of the prince.

Letting out a sigh, Tyuule left the room and went to find a healer and someone to clean this mess up.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: NEW YORK AIRSPACE – EN ROUTE TO SITE: GAMMA 5**_

 _ **DATE: JUNE 15, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 16:17:22**_

* * *

En route to Times Square and the primary staging area of the US invasion force were four MH-60L Black Hawks of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment that cruised along fast and low.

As the pilots of the helicopters flew towards their destination, their passengers sat in silence in the cabins. They were not ordinary soldiers; they were members of Task Force Nemesis. Specifically, those of 1st Platoon, "Relentless".

Armed to the teeth with the latest in military weaponry and technology, these brave men and women would be the vanguard for the US invasion.

At the lead Black Hawk, 1LT Eric Wilson was sitting in silence but deep down, he was a little bit nervous. After all, this is his first real mission in a long time. Looking around, he saw his teammates doing their own thing to pass the time.

Some were reading books; others were rechecking their gear, while others were looking at photos of their families. Something to take their minds off the stress of the mission just for a little while. 1LT Wilson was the same, really. He was rerunning episodes of his favorite anime scenes in his head to keep his cool.

Looking at his direct front, Wilson gingerly stared at his commanding officer, MAJ Derek Westbrook or Frost as he was known from the guys he had talked with. The man was sitting in absolute silence with his rifle gripped loosely in his hands and his head tilted slightly down as if he was taking a light nap.

1LT Wilson had to admit, he looked very intimidating with that black mask and sunglasses; and from he had seen this past two weeks in Fort Bragg, he well earned his moniker as the Black Death and his reputation as being one of the best and deadliest soldiers in the service.

While they were at Bragg, 1LT Wilson had learned some new and very important skills as well as refining skills he already knew. His favorites were the CQC courses which he excelled at; he especially liked the inclusion of knife fighting, archery, and swordsmanship.

The Green Beret had tangled with all the members of Task Force Nemesis in a sparring match and he was quite proud of being one of the best fighters. Then he faced MAJ Westbrook.

That spar was pure torture on his part. The man was ferocious and attacked with efficiency and brutality. 1LT Wilson recognized that his fighting style focused more on quickly neutralizing an opponent efficiently and painfully with crippling blows and disabling grapples. Not to mention that the Major can fight dirty if he wants to. 1LT Wilson learned that one the hard way.

It was a close fight but Wilson lost with a swollen lip and bruised ribs. On the other hand, MAJ. Westbrook suffered a cut on his lip. He thought his ex-girlfriend Kuri was tough, but the Major was made of far sterner stuff.

Well, that was a thought for another time. 1LT Wilson sat back on his chair and watched the scenery from the window. They had all been briefed of their mission: secure the area in preparation for the invasion and make sure no one finds out about it.

It was a pretty straight forward mission but no less dangerous. If things go South, Relentless would be truly on their own with no hope of reinforcements. It was thus imperative that they do not screw up or they may not live to regret it.

The Black Hawks entered Manhattan airspace and 1LT Wilson could see that the island – or at least the Southern half of it – was turned into a fortress. There were no civilians here as they were evacuated; only twenty thousand personnel, hundreds of combat vehicles, and thousands of tons of supplies remained.

At the center of it all was Times Square and the damn structure that started all of this. The Gate was surrounded on all sides by hundreds of soldiers armed with machine guns and explosives, entirely fenced off by high electric fences along its perimeter, and entombed behind five feet of concrete and steel.

"Command, this is Ultra 6-1. We're six hundred meters out from Bryant Park. Requesting permission to land. Over."

"Ultra 6-1, you are cleared to land."

"Roger that, Command."

The four Black Hawks began their approach to Bryant Park which was converted into one of the makeshift heliports employed by the US Military.

Waiting for their arrival was none other than COL Chris Summers, overall commander of Task Force Nemesis.

Once the helicopters were safely on the ground, Frost ordered his men to disembark before he opened the cabin doors. He and his men quickly got out of the choppers with their heads down and jigged a safe distance away before the Black Hawks took off again.

Frost and his men stood at their full height and made their way to COL Summers. "Gentlemen, welcome to Gamma 5. C'mon, we got a long drive ahead of us." With that, he led the group to a convoy of five M-ATVs.

Upon entering the vehicles, COL Summers ordered the convoy to proceed to the Gate.

"Any updates from the other side, sir?" Frost asked.

COL Summers looked at the Major before he pulled out a tablet and handed it to him. He also made sure that the soldiers from the other vehicles had a copy of this intel and synced up the comms so they can hear him.

"About five hours ago, our drones have picked up a large heat signature about four clicks due North of the Gate."

Frost studied the intel for a few moments before giving it to the others. "Possible enemy encampment?" He saw the Colonel nod.

"We think so. They're probably there to report any incursions. Estimates suggest that there are about twenty personnel, maybe more. Your guys are going to have to take care of this before anything else."

"They haven't moved from their position since then, sir?" Staff Sergeant Dylan H. Williams, a Delta Force Operator and an accomplished demolitions expert asked before handing it to Wilson.

"No, it looks like they made camp there so most of them are probably sleeping at this time with some on sentry duty."

1LT Wilson studied the images as well. "Any of those mages been spotted with them, sir?" He asked.

COL Summers shook his head slowly. "We don't know as the ones we've captured don't look anything close to a mage but I wouldn't disregard it just yet. They maybe wearing different clothing or don't need scepters."

1LT Wilson nodded before handing it off to a fellow soldier. "Lucky for us they didn't notice those drones. Nobody ever thinks to actually look up or down until it's too late."

"No shit." The Colonel mumbled in agreement before turning to Frost. "Primary objective is to take out the enemy encampment and set up shop on the designated vantage points. If possible, capture the commander of that group and send him back here for interrogation. That's secondary priority."

"You don't want us to capture a mage?" Frost asked with a raised brow though it was concealed under his mask.

COL Summers shook his head. "We can't risk it, Major. Until we have a deeper understanding of their capabilities and how to counter them, we cannot take any of them prisoner on the chance they manage to break out. Terminate them if there are any."

Frost nodded. "Understood."

"Any questions?" He asked and when there was no answer, he nodded. "Good."

For the remainder of the trip, they sat in silence, passing numerous checkpoints before they finally arrived at their destination. COL Summers accompanied his men until they reached the last checkpoint before the Gate.

"This is as far as I can go." The Colonel said before turning to them all; the best the Armed Services had to offer. A private came up to him and handed him a bag containing a special hard lined relay device before handing it to Frost. "Here, this is a special communications relay. We can't receive transmissions from a certain distance inside. That's why it's hard lined like this. You'll need to install it there so we can communicate."

Frost nodded as he grabbed it and handed it to Sergeant First Class Bruce J. Collier, a member of the 24th Special Tactics Squadron and their communications specialist.

"Good luck. All of you." With that, the Colonel departed on his way to the command center.

Frost rolled his shoulders to get the tightness out of them. "Let's move." He said as he and his men went through the last checkpoint and towards the Gate.

As they walked to the Gate, they were watched by the eyes of the many brothers and sisters-in-arms. "There they go, man. Bastards ain't going to know what hit them. They got to be crazy or something to go to that shit hole without any support." A Marine mumbled.

"That's special ops for you. Besides, they thrive in this shit. Wonder which unit they in though." Another, Specialist Lorenzo Giovanni, asked as he manned the Mk 47 grenade launcher.

PVT Terrence shrugged. "Who knows, man. They're probably guys from JSOC, no doubt about that. They're the only ones crazy enough to do this kind of shit. My money's on Navy SEALs though."

"Probably." SPC Giovannu hummed before he shrugged. "Fuck it, that shit's way above our pay grade."

Once Relentless reached the electric fences, they were deactivated so they can pass on through. Once they were only fifteen meters from the massive doors of the containment structure, Frost motioned his troops to halt.

"Overlord, Nightmare Actual. We're ready to proceed. Request permission to enter the Gate. Over." He said before he ordered his men to ready their weapons just in case. The soldiers manning the heavy emplacements saw this and readied themselves as well.

"Roger that, Nightmare."

For a few seconds, there was nothing until alarms started blaring from the structure as the doors began to slowly open. Frost had expected the possibility of another attack but as the doors opened wider and wider until it is fully opened, nothing jumped put of it.

"Flashlights." He ordered as he saw that there was nothing in front of them but a black void. "Overlord, we're going in."

"Wilco. God speed to all of you." With that, the men of Task Force Nemesis cautiously entered the Gate.

Once they were inside and moved deeper into the passage way, some of them could not help but feel a little freaked out. "Damn, this is…strange. Know what I mean?" A member of the 75th Ranger Regiment, Sergeant First Class Steven Mills, said as he scanned the deep blackness.

"No kidding." 1LT Wilson mumbled in return. He knew that going into another world through an interdimensional passageway was going to be a doozy but he did not think that it would be like this.

The Green Beret thought that it would be instantaneous or something, not walking into what could be called an abyss. Hell, for all they knew, they could be ambushed by some kind of shadow monster in here. Anime tended to overplay this sort of situation for a reason.

Frost had lost track of how long they had been traversing this Gate. He knew it was going to be a long walk from the drone's data but he could not help but think the possibility of them being trapped here forever.

It would be a pretty shitty way to die.

After God knows how long, Frost could see a dim light source in front of him. "There, must be the exit. Lights off; keep low and prepare for contact."

"Thank Christ."

With renewed vigor, the men jogged their way towards the exit. Most of them had begun to think that they would not escape this claustrophobic place and would very much like to get out. Tougher than nails they may be but moving through the Gate gave them the creeps.

Once they were near the threshold, Frost signaled for half of the platoon led by 1LT Wilson to move to the other side of the Gate. The Major then held his fist up and his troops stopped before he signaled for them to keep low.

Frost and 1LT Wilson carefully peered out of the Gate; looking for any signs of hostiles in the area using their thermal optics. "Clear." 1LT Wilson said.

"All clear." The Major confirmed. "Collier, install the relay once we've secured the perimeter." To indicate where the Sergeant will install the relay, Frost tapped the wall next to him.

"Wilco."

Cautiously, Frost and 1LT Wilson led the men through the threshold and into Falmart. On this day, history has been made. They were the first humans of Earth to ever set foot on an alien world.

Like Neil Alden Armstrong said, "That's one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind." Though the circumstances are far different from what the famous astronaut had experienced.

The Major had his men encompass the entire Gate's perimeter and once the all clear was given, SGT Collier began his work to install the communications relay. As he was working, the men kept a sharp eye out for anything that moved.

There was nothing to report but they stayed vigilant. However, they could not help but admire this new land. The sky was clear and illuminated with thousands of glistening stars. The air smelled cleaner and more refreshing. Though they could not clearly see it, they imagined the landscape was breathtaking as well.

It was almost a shame they would have to destroy some of the beauty here.

"Comms relay secured and online." SGT Collier said after a few minutes of work before he took up his position behind one of the pillars.

Frost nodded and attempted to command. "Nightmare to Overlord, do you receive? Over." There was nothing but static so he tried again. "Overlord, this is Nightmare. Are you receiving? Over."

"Ni-tma-re -s i- Ove-lo-. W- re-d you loud and clear. Good to hear from you." The men allowed themselves a moment of joy and relief; glad that they were able to contact headquarters.

"Overlord, we've successfully crossed over and secured a perimeter. No activity to report. Proceeding to Phase 2."

"Understood."

Frost let go of his comms and turned to the Green Beret. "Wilson, deploy the drone."

"Yes, sir." Wilson took off his pack and fished out the PQ-1A Spook reconnaissance drone. The PQ-1A Spook is part of a series of new portable reconnaissance drones equipped with the latest in surveillance and optical technology, allowing soldiers on the ground to have a real-time bird's eye view of the battlefield.

A quadcopter in form, it has the added capability of hovering and a maximum operating altitude of two thousand and five hundred feet. Its successor, the PQ-2 Wraith, would also have offensive capabilities; armed with a modified gun that shoots .45 ACP rounds and fitted with explosives should things get a little hairy. It would have been preferable in this situation but production was not going to be mainstream for another several months at the earliest.

1LT Wilson deployed the drone and using a specialized compact tablet; the drone rose to a height of about one thousand feet and began to survey the area. "Drone's live, sir. We got a clear picture of the area."

Frost nodded. "Overlord, drone's in the air. Prepare for live video feed. Over."

"Roger that, standing by."

"Wilson, sync up to Overlord."

Wilson nodded and began to make the connection. The process only took him a few seconds to complete. "Done. Feed should be coming their way."

"Solid copy on your feed, team."

Frost motioned for SSG Williams to come with him and they came up to the Green Beret and peered at the surveillance feed. "Have the drone scan the field. Ten click radius. Let's find that encampment and make sure there're no surprises for us."

"Copy." Wilson did as he was told and commanded the drone to do a thorough sweep of the field. Everything was all clear; save for a few small heat signatures. He reasoned that those were local fauna. It was not until about two minutes into the search that he got a hit. "There they are; about four clicks due North from our position. Thermal imaging shows thirty hostiles. The intel was solid, sir."

Frost and SSG Williams nodded in approval. "Terrain?"

Wilson pulled up a rendered 3D map of the field generated from the gathered data and showed it to the Major. "They're here at the foot of a small hill surrounded by shrubbery on two sides. We can use these paths here and the vegetation to cover our movements and come around the back of the camp. It seems the least guarded; only sleeping men."

The Delta Operator nodded in approval. "Good plan. I can see two vantage points here and here." He pointed at two small ridges about one hundred meters from the camp each from the South and North East. "We'll have sniper teams on station for cover. Three two man infiltrator teams will come in and kill everyone inside while the rest hang back as security. Wilson, you're our eyes and ears."

"Sounds like a plan." SSG Williams said.

Frost hummed in agreement. "Let the others know. We move out in three mikes."

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SADERAN ENCAMPMENT – FOUR KILOMETERS FROM THE GATE**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 23, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 23:41:07**_

* * *

Gyras Del Pudentius was coming back to the center of the camp as he was finished with his shift. He was exhausted and he wanted to have something to eat and drink first before he retires for the night.

He was only an ordinary soldier of the Saderan Army from the fishing town of Haerndean located on the Western bank of the Blue Sea, and he has been in the Army for three years now. Gyras was a conscript then when the Empire needed men to fight in their conquest of Falmart.

If he was honest with himself, he did not even believe in the goals of the Empire. All he cared about was the pay; not for himself but to feed his wife and two young daughters.

Before Gyras was conscripted into the army, he had no means to earn a living for his then pregnant wife. He tried everything; from being a hired hand to scrapping for scraps on the roads. None of those were enough to support his growing family and he began to grow desperate; even resorting to petty thievery.

It was not until an Imperial envoy came to Haerndean, declaring that there was a conscription going on and the army needed able bodied men. Seeing that this was a chance to support his family, Gyras willingly let himself be taken.

His wife, Anysia, begged him to not go but eventually relented when they knew that there was no other choice to be had.

Well, these past three years have been good for him and his family if he was honest with himself. Eventually, he became an official soldier for the Army instead of a conscript. This meant that his pay also increased. Even though the pay was not that much, the stable income helped support his family and that was all that mattered to him.

As he neared the camp fires, he was greeted by the others. _"Ah, Gyras. Done with your rounds, I see."_ A man, Gust Del Bernink, said he handed Gyras a piece of bread, cooked meat, and a pouch of water.

" _Yes, everything seems to be all clear and I haven't seen any movement."_ He took a bite of the bread and meat. _"Well, apart from the occasional critters here and there."_

" _That's good to hear."_ Gust replied. _"And there hasn't been any reported movement from the Gate this day either. Another quiet day for us."_

Another soldier scoffed. _"You sound like you want them to invade. You've heard what Meridius said, this new country is wretched and even our armies won't be able to stop them if they come through."_

" _And you actually believe that we won't beat them back?"_ Gust raised a brow.

" _I heard some men came back from the expeditionary force through the Gate over a month before."_ Gyras said. _"I also heard that they were the only ones that survived whatever they encountered there."_

Gust threw up his hands in exasperation. _"What is the matter with all of you?! So what if they're the only ones that came back, that doesn't mean it hasn't happened before. The Empire's been through this before and we've always pulled through."_

Some of the men began to nod before they all continued their conversations. About ten minutes later, Gyras stood up with a stretch. _"Well, I'm retiring for the night. I shall see you lot in the morning."_ The others bid him a good night as well before he made his way to the tents.

He yawned silently before he shook his head as he walked comfortably to his tent on at the back of the camp. He fished out something in his pocket; it was a letter addressed to his wife back home and the soldier couldn't help but smile at it.

She had been begging him to come back home and spend time with the children lately. Well, it has been months since Gyras was last allowed to come back home and he missed them dearly but he knew that he must stay here to protect them from this new threat.

He could only hope that this letter would be enough as a substitute for them missing him.

As he was about to enter his tent, he saw one of the sentries sitting on a chair while leaning on one of the posts; he must have fallen asleep or something. Shaking his head, Gyras placed the letter inside his pocket and decided to wake him up as to not make their commander very displeased.

" _Hey, wake up!"_ Gyras called over, careful not to wake his other sleeping comrades. _"You know better than to sleep on sentry duty."_ He said, trying to shake the man awake. _"Come on; wake up before somebody else sees you."_ He shook him harder and the poor fucker actually fell to the ground.

' _Poor sap's knocked out cold.'_ Gyras sighed to himself before he kneeled. _"I don't have time for this, man. Stand up."_ He grunted before trying to roughly hake him awake. When he did not, Gyras now knew something was amiss and turned him over.

To his horror, he saw that the soldier was dead with his throat slit open and his eyes wide with fear. In his fright, he stumbled back and looked around franticly.

" _In-"_ Before he could alert the camp, something from the shrubbery pounced at him from behind and covered his mouth. Gyras tried to escape before he felt his neck being sawed open.

He tried to wheeze for breath but with his trachea and carotid artery severed, he could not breathe and was losing blood quickly. He felt himself being dragged into the vegetation and he was able to see his attacker.

His killer had no face; all Gyras could see was blackness before he was dumped on the ground. In his last moments, the poor man thought only of his family before his life finally expired.

* * *

After dispatching the hostile and hiding the body, Frost began searching the body for any useful information. He quickly found a letter in the body's pocket and stored it away. It might have been a daily report or something.

"Clear. Point Alpha secured." Frost reported as he was joined by SSG Williams.

"This is Team 2, Point Bravo secured."

"This is Team 3, Point Charlie secured. Waiting for the green light. Over."

"Roger that." Frost acknowledged. "Wilson, got anything?"

"Negative, sir. Drone's not picking up any sudden activity. We're still undetected." The Green Beret reported from his position at the North Eastern ridge with the second sniper team as the drone hovered overhead the camp. "You have execute authority."

"Solid copy. All units, green light. Move in." With the order given, the two man infiltrator teams began their work - systematically killing every Saderan soldier in their sleep.

While there were three two man teams infiltrate and kill whoever was in it and two sniper teams and Wilson on overwatch, the rest were spread out all over the outer perimeter as security and back up.

After all, no plan survives first contact with the enemy unless you are prepared as shit.

Frost and SSG Williams silently entered the first tent and found that there were five slumbering hostiles there. Two at a time, they died in their sleep after being stabbed in the neck.

As they exited the tent, they heard voices coming their way and the two quickly hid behind cover. They saw six foot mobiles coming towards them. "Sniper teams, we have six hostiles coming towards our pos. Do you have a shot?" Frost whispered.

"Negative. No clear shot."

Frost grunted silently but kept his cool; he has been through these kinds of situations before. "Let's see if they separate." The two men waited in the shadows to see if they would split up.

As it turns out, lady luck was on their side and they began to head into the tents, leaving only two to come towards them. "You take the one of the right." SSG Williams acknowledged and levelled the sights of their suppressed Lynx C1300s on the hostiles. "On my mark: Three. Two. One. Mark."

Suppressed shots burst from their rifles and instantly took out the hostiles with Frost taking out the third. With the threat dealt with, they resumed playing Boogeyman.

After clearing their third tent, they saw that numerous hostile were trying to wake up the sleeping men in the tents so they took to the shadows. "What's going on, Wilson."

"Heightened activity all over the camp, sir. I think they found some of the bodies."

Frost hummed; he knew this would happen sooner or later but he hoped to finish this without anyone noticing. Regardless, they had a job to do and this was no excuse. "Roger. Keep us posted. We continue as planned. Snipers and security teams, you see anyone making a run for it, you are cleared hot."

"Understood."

"Solid Copy."

"Roger that."

"Wilco."

Nodding to SSG Williams, they continued on mission.

* * *

" _What the fuck is going on here?!"_ The commander of the camp roared as he saw his men in a frenzy. He was enjoying his gods given sleep until he was disturbed by all of the commotion.

" _M-Milord, we're under attack!"_ Gust yelled frantically and the commander's eyes widened in surprise.

" _Bandits?!"_

" _I don't know, sir, but they couldn't be. They attacked silently without us noticing then the next thing we knew, we were finding dead bodies inside the tents! Over half of the camp has been killed, Milord!"_

The commander had to stop himself from stumbling; over half of his men were already killed and they were none the wiser. His subordinate was right though, bandits would not be the culprit here. They were not usually ones to go for the subtle approach.

Assassins maybe? This surely fit their MO but no, they have not offended anyone to garner this kind of attention and no one else knew that they were here.

' _Could it be…?"_ His gaze turned towards the direction of the Gate. It has to be; assassins from the other side. They were already here.

" _What do we do, sir?!"_

The commander turned his attention back to Gust. _"Send a rider back to the Capital. Inform them that the enemy has come. I'll rally the men."_

Gust's eyes trembled in realization. _"Y-You mean-"_

" _NOW, DAMMIT!"_ The commander roared and Gust scurried along to complete his orders while he tried to rally the men and kill the otherworlders.

Unknown to him, he was being watched.

* * *

"All units, be advised: we have eyes on the probable enemy commander. Please advise." The leader of team 2, SFC Mills, reported as his teammate took aim.

"Do you have PID?" The Major asked.

"Roger that. He's pointing and barking orders. I'd say that's him."

Like the old saying goes, "Leaders love to point." That is why that makes them so distinguishable most of the time from the regular grunts.

"Capture if possible. Terminate if necessary."

"Wilco." With that, SFC Mills and his teammate disappeared into the shadows once again.

* * *

On the North Eastern ridge, sniper team 2 was observing the camp. All of them were trying to find the intruders but they would lose men at every turn they made. It would not be long until all of them were dead.

Equipped with thermal optics, the sniper and the spotter had no trouble seeing what was what.

"Whoa, I see something." Wilson mumbled beside them. "Yeah, I got two foot mobiles going towards the North side with a horse. Probably trying to escape."

The sniper team diverted their attention to the North side of the camp and sure enough, they saw it as well. Knowing that they could not let anyone escape to warn the enemy, they proceeded to take them out.

* * *

The rider mounted his horse as Gust gave him the message. _"Make sure this gets to the Capital! Don't stop for anything!"_

The rider nodded but before he can kick his horse into a run, the entire left side of his face was blown off. This made the horse scream in fright and gallops away while Gust fell to the ground.

He stared at the corpse of the rider in horror. He did not even see whatever killed him coming! What magic was this?! Did these invaders have their own branch of assassination magic?!

Before he can escape, his head jolted backwards and he fell to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. His face was forever locked in shock as a gaping hole the size of a grape leaked blood from the center of his head.

Their sudden deaths only fueling the panic and chaos of the remaining Saderans in the camp.

* * *

Twenty minutes since Relentless began their little game of hide-and-go-kill, the Saderan Camp was almost devoid of life. They had tried to put up a decent defense and weed the Americans out but thanks to modern military tactics, the environment and the Saderan's own fear, they were all hunted down to the last man.

Every corner the Saderans took, one or two men disappeared which made them even more jumpy and frightened. Some tried to escape into the wilderness but they were quickly picked off by the sniper and security teams.

After all was said and done, Frost ordered his men to rally up at the center of the camp. "Good work, men." The Major nodded in approval. "Sweep the camp. Find anything remotely useful. Move."

The soldiers acknowledged before Frost looked at the deceased body of the enemy commander. It was a shame that he was killed as he may have some useful intel but there was no real loss here. Whatever he knew may be recorded in his tent.

They were lucky that they did not encounter any mages here. Frost was not too confident in facing someone that could use Fiendfyre or some shit like that. He wanted to be ready for that certainty.

Since everything was all clear, Frost took the letter out from that man he killed and opened it up. He did not have time to read it so he took out his specialized camera, and took a picture of it and sent it back to command.

"Overlord, we've secured the camp and sweeping for viable intel. Sending an image now."

"Solid copy, Nightmare, good work. We are receiving your images; we'll take care of the rest. Proceed to Phase 3. Over."

"Roger that. Out." He said as the rest of his men came back after several minutes of scouring the camp for anything.

"We found what we can and sent it to Overlord, sir." 1LT Wilson reported and he saw the Major nod. "Should we clean up this mess?"

"No, let nature do the work." Frost said callously. "Proceed to Phase 3." With their task complete, the soldiers of Task Force Nemesis began to take up their designated positions around the Gate.

For three days, they would stay there hidden from view until the full might of the invasion force comes. However, they were unaware that they were being observed since the moment they set foot on Falmart.

Hidden in the shadows was the Apostle of the Dark God Emroy, the infamous Rory Mercury herself, and she was more than pleased at what she saw.

A little over a week ago while she was merrily travelling the lands, she felt something change in the air. That something would happen that would change this world forever and she was sure her fellow Apostles felt it as well. She had heard rumors that the Empire, in all its stupidity, stepped through the Gate and waged war against a new power.

It would seem that Hardy was bored again…

It was not until she was visited by Emory himself that she learned the truth. Hardy had opened up a Gate to Terra again in an effort to jumpstart this world's development and because she was bored. He instructed her to observe these invaders when they came.

Obeying the commands of her patron, she waited patiently for days and then they came. While she was here, she could even sense the presence of two Apostles here, Giselle and Mabel Forn.

The former probably being sent here to observe her mistress' new project while the latter was probably tasked by Zufmuut to find out just what Hardy was up to again.

Well, as long as they stayed out of her own task for Emroy then they would have no problems.

Then they came.

They were few but Rory felt it; they beings reeked of the stench of war and that made her lick her lips in approval. However, she then laid eyes to the one who practically radiated war, the Faceless One. She had lived a long life but she never had felt someone like this before. This man was soaked in the very essence of war, bloodshed, fury, hatred, and vengeance.

It almost made her want to come out and greet them personally on behalf of Emroy and herself.

They possessed strange contraptions as well. Those staves…could they be battle mages? Their flying contraption that rose up in the air was also a surprise to her but it was the way they killed an entire Saderan camp was what made her grinning in anticipation.

Like predators, they stalked the Saderans and killed them efficiently and quietly. They were perfectly coordinated and not one of them was killed let alone injured. Personally, she would have stormed the camp and butchered every last one but their way works just as well.

Through her eyes, Emroy watched as well and he was also pleased. Commenting that if this was the opening act, he could not wait for the main army to come and give him a show. He instructed his Apostle to further observe them from afar.

Rory could not wait for it as well but it will come soon. She knew it, all the gods knew it and the Empire certainly knew it as well. Seeing that her task was complete, the Apostle of Emroy decided to leave to scratch a certain itch.

" _I'll see you again, Faceless One."_ She giggled in anticipation before she headed North. Seeing those men work had gotten her in heat.

What better way to sate her appetite than to hunt down a few hundred bandits?

* * *

 _ **OMAKE: WE'RE GONNA GET YOU**_

* * *

Running through the dark wilderness was a lone Saderan soldier. He did not know what has happened to the others but he knew that he had to get out of there if he valued his life.

It happened so fast; one moment, he was fast asleep in his cot and then he was kicked out of his cot and told that they were being attacked. As such, he did as he was told and scoured the camp for their attackers but everywhere they looked, every corner they turned, their numbers thinned and thinned until only a handful of them were left.

It was like they were being hunted down to the last man by some supernatural hunter right at their own home.

The experience, the chaos and fear, drove some men to abandon everything and make a run for it.

He was one of those men and he ran to save his life despite being labeled a deserter. He knew if a deserter was captured, it was an automatic death sentence but he did not care. He could still hear the screaming of the dying from the camps so he did not dare stop.

When the screaming finally stopped and he was sure that he was at a safe distance away from the camp, he allowed himself to catch his breath and leaned on a tree.

Looking around, he saw that he was surrounded by near total darkness with only the still burning fires of the camp as the sole light source. It was unnerving, especially the tense silence. He knew he could not stay here for long; he had to keep running lest those…things catch up to him.

Before he could start running again, he heard something that made him freeze up and chilled him to the bone.

 _ **HIHIHIHIHI! HIHIHIHIHI!**_

Childish demented laughter echoed all around him; it was like some kind of sadistic demon's cackling and he frantically tried to find the source with his sword in hand.

"W-WHO'S THERE?!" He shouted into the darkness, visibly shaking and his breathing ragged. The laughter continued until it spoke something that haunt him forever.

 _ **WE'RE GONNA GET YOU.**_

 _ **WE'RE GONNA GET YOU.**_

 _ **NOT ANOTHER PEEP.**_

 _ **TIME TO GO TO SLEEP.**_

That horrific voice sang over and over again, and he could just feel it getting louder and louder. Whatever it was, it was coming right at him!

Finally losing it, he made a break for it. He did not care anymore; he did not care what happened to his friends, he did not care what happened to the Empire. Fuck them all! All he wanted was to get out of this nightmare!

Sadly, he did not get far as he felt his leg ignite in pain before he screamed and fell to the ground. He looked at his leg and he could feel warm liquid flowing from it; he has been shot through the leg but there was no arrow.

Ignoring his injury, he desperately tried to stand up but it was no use. With no other choice, he tried to claw his way out. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" He screamed in the darkness as that awful high pitched voice drew nearer.

 _ **WE'RE GONNA GET YOU.**_

 _ **WE'RE GONNA GET YOU.**_

 _ **NOT ANOTHER PEEP.**_

 _ **TIME TO GO TO SLEEP.**_

The poor man was now crying; his hands were bleeding and his muscles screamed for rest but he needed to get out of here! Coming towards a tree, he tried to pull himself up.

 _ **WE'RE GONNA GET YOU.**_

 _ **WE'RE GONNA GET YOU.**_

 _ **NOT ANOTHER PEEP.**_

 _ **TIME TO GO TO…**_

Before he knew it, his head was pulled back and his eyes widened in absolute horror as he felt something sharp press against his neck.

 _ **"Sleep."**_

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **I'm back with another chapter, readers!**_

 _ **For the time difference between them, Falmart time is ahead by 5:23:24 on Eastern Standard Time and 1 day on Falmart is 1 .05 days on Earth.**_

 _ **Task Force Nemesis has arrived and soon, the US Army and Marines will surge on through! The action's about to begin!**_

 _ **Rory's made her appearance and she took an instant liking to Frost or the Faceless One and the God Emroy will be watching this show with popcorn.**_

 _ **The Gate's been to Earth before?! How can that be?! Well, it's a secret.**_

 _ **Anyway, here's the organization of TF-117. Basically, with a number of 123 personnel minus Frost and Chris, not to mention the support and logistics personnel, it's company sized.**_

 _ **Overall Commander: Colonel Chris Summers – Call sign: "Crispy"**_

 _ **Field Commander: Major Derek 'Frost' Westbrook - Call sign: "Nightmare"**_

 _ **1**_ _ **st**_ _ **Platoon, "Relentless" (Assault) – 26 personnel specializing in all terrain and operations. Under the direct command of MAJ Westbrook**_

 _ **2**_ _ **nd**_ _ **Platoon, "Leviathan" (Assault) – 29 personnel specializing in maritime operations. Under the command of First Lieutenant Norris T. Jones – Call sign: "Scourge"**_

 _ **3**_ _ **rd**_ _ **Platoon, "Tornado" (Assault) – 33 personnel specializing in aerial operations. Under the command of First Lieutenant James Ramirez – Call sign: "Ronin"**_

 _ **Combat Support Group, "Oracle" – 35 personnel in support roles. Under the command of Lance R. Bridgeman – Call sign: "Tempest"**_

 _ **Last thing, that omake is not canon unfortunately. Real life eliminations don't go like that; this is just me having a little bit of fun.**_

 _ **Until next time.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Special thanks to Cloud Link Zero and Trainalf for once again helping me with this story and to all the viewers out there.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy!**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter VII – Terrible Resolve**_

* * *

" _The deadliest weapon in the world is a Marine and his rifle." – General of the Armies John Joseph Pershing_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: COAN FOREST**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 18, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 11:53:09**_

* * *

Elves are amongst the most beautiful and long lived races in Falmart; capable of living almost eternally. Though most would think that they are all the same, there are actually three sub species of elves: The High, Wood and Dark Elves, or Rhashae, Oflai, and Druganthi, respectively.

However, millennia ago, there were only the Rhashae and Druganthi that existed. The Rhashae, devout followers of Zufmuut, inhabited the peaks of Thetpar Mountains where they have created their own paradise as the God of Order' most favored subjects. While the Druganthi, devoted worshippers of Hardy, ended up making the Knappnai Mountains as their home.

The two elven races had once ruled Falmart for thousands of years but they also had been at war with each other for almost the same time; due in no small part because of their patron gods. The Rhashae were peerless warriors, unmatched prowess in the mystic arts, and riders of the great and noble Caledor Dragons that were said to be gifts from Zufmuut himself.

However, the Druganthi were their opposite. Where the Rhashae were noble, compassionate and courageous, the Druganthi were deceitful, ruthless, and tyrannical. They possessed magic and martial skill equal and sometimes superior to their cousins, and masters of the dreaded Eslir Dragons.

The two races had fought for supremacy of the continent with many of the other races being forced to choose sides in order to survive. For centuries, they had drowned the land of Falmart in blood and flames but soon enough, the price of war began to take their toll.

Eventually, the Rhashae and Druganthi had lost so much in their war that they were forced to agree on an uneasy truce evoked by the Apostles of Zufmuut, Deldort, Wareharun, and surprisingly, Hardy. With the truce in place, the two races retreated back to their homes as they no longer had the strength to control the continent.

This led the other stronger beings to seize the opportunity and take as much land as they could. This led to a period of feudalism in Falmart.

Over time, the Rhashae and Druganthi strived to rebuild and they did but they were merely shadows of their former selves and had adopted a policy of isolationism. Choosing to stay within their mountain sanctuaries than involve themselves with the outside world again.

In that time, the two races experienced numerous changes. Once, the Rhashae were among the noblest of beings but now, they became exceedingly prideful and arrogant with most bragging and reminiscing about the days when they upheld the order in Falmart as Zufmuut's most favored.

For the Druganthi, they became indifferent about all things not directly concerning them.

Centuries passed and another major change would be known. It started small at first but soon enough; a few clans of the Rhashae were becoming disenchanted about their beliefs and disgruntled about the rigid and stagnant state they have been reduced to. They wanted to break away from this system and believe in something more than just order.

They found it in the serenity of the forests – the domain of the God of Nature, Wareharun. Guided by his Apostle, those clans began to assimilate and accept this new way of life. Decades passed and these clans grew in numbers but they were discovered by their Rhashae brothers and sisters.

The Rhashae leaders saw this as heresy and betrayal of the highest form, and sought to slaughter those clans to purge this stain on their honor. It is only to the interference of the Apostles of Zufmuut and Wareharun that they ceased their efforts and were forced to accept this new development.

Begrudgingly, the Rhashae accepted this but these clans were forever banished from their ancestral homes, and there has been bad blood ever since.

With their lives spared, these clans searched for a new home wherever the world may give them and they had been searching since. Thus the Wood Elves, or the Oflai, were born – the nomadic elves just searching for a place to call home.

It was another beautiful day in the Oflai settlement of Mylanaes; its inhabitants were going about their usual thing. The atmosphere was serene and lovely while children played with each other and men and women chatted and worked together on various chores and jobs.

In a quaint little house at the central area of Mylanaes, Hodor Marceau, a centuries-old elf and one of the village leaders, was preparing some cuts of roasted deer he had hunted a few days ago, and some fruits and vegetables as lunch for him, his daughter and her young friend.

Although what he was doing should be the task of his wife but he did not have a wife…not anymore. Not after she died in child birth.

Hodor remembered that day with sadness but he was grateful that she gave him a wonderful parting gift. He was once a very prevalent womanizer; having slept with many women until he met his wife, who was quite the woman if he did say so himself. She, Elora, was a fierce woman who could fight and spit with the best of them but also a heart as tender as a rose. To him, it was love at first sight; or rather, love at first punch to the testicles.

They were married after thirty-seven years of meeting and the two were madly in love. However, Hodor did not have an easy time gaining her love as she knew quite well of his womanizing ways beforehand, but it was well worth it in the end and he became all the wiser for it.

They had shared many great things in their life together and embarked on some exhilarating adventures but it was the coming of their first child that would be their most challenging endeavor yet. For Hodor, the day Tuka was born was both the most precious and painful moment in his life. He had gained a beautiful daughter but lost his best friend and loving wife.

Hodor shook his head and sighed; Elora was gone and there was nothing he could do about that. The only thing that could distract him from the loss was making sure his people were safe and taking care of his daughter.

Speaking of which…

Hodor came to the front door and opened it. _"Tuka, come. The food is ready."_ He called out to his daughter who was playing the lute in front of an audience of children.

Tuka Luna Marceau stopped playing her lute and smiled at her father. _"Coming, father!"_ She is a very beautiful young woman despite being over a century and a half old with mesmerizing blue eyes and almost golden hair. Many in the village consider her as one of the most beautiful women and there were many suitors that were after her hand in marriage.

Unfortunately, Hodor is very protective of his daughter and none even managed to make it past the front door with their intentions – gifts or otherwise.

Tuka's young audience pouted at her leaving but their disappointment disappeared when one of them offered a game of ball. _"C'mon, Faelar. Let's eat."_ Tuka smiled at the boy beside her.

" _Okay."_ The boy, Faelar, said meekly but with a smile. He was a young elf born with dark hair, green eyes, and slightly darker skin. He was different from the other elves because he was a half breed; born of a human father and an elven mother but his conception was an unfortunate one. A common one for those that survived long enough, but unfortunate nonetheless.

His mother had been a slave and was raped countless times until she became pregnant with him. She was being transported with a slave caravan when she gave birth to Faelar in what could be called a pig sty. The slavers carelessly threw him into the forest since he was a sickly babe and almost worthless to their eyes.

Up to that point, that was what Hodor witnessed and quickly made his way to the infant. He expected it to be dead but miraculously, the boy survived. Taking pity on the poor thing, he took him back to his village to be raised and named him Faelor.

Alas, for his appearance, Faelor was ostracized by the village despite Hodor and Tuka's best efforts. The boy does not know of his true origins, Hodor made sure of that because he was sure the child would not take it well, especially at his young age. However, he suspected the boy had his doubts about what the elder elf told him pertaining to his parentage.

He was a bright child. At the very least, that was what Hodor was sure of.

Tuka and Faelor entered their home and greeted Hodor. _"Hello, children."_ He greeted them with a smile before he motioned for them to sit. _"Come, let's eat."_

As they were eating, Faelar could not help but feel sad. They might not say it to his face but he could guess why everyone was avoiding him like the plague. Hodor himself said that he was a bright child and seeing as how he looked quite different from the rest, he guessed that he was not a full elf.

Faelar did not know who his parents were. Every time he asks Hodor about them, he always said the same thing that his parents had many enemies and entrusted him to this village. Before, the boy believed it but now, he was not so sure. Don't get him wrong, he was grateful to Hodor and Tuka for taking him in and he loved them dearly for it; but the boy wanted to know who his real family were.

He would like nothing more than to believe that what Hodor told his was true but Faelor just wanted to meet his parents again. He still held hope that they would come for him; to feel the love of a mother he never had.

And to feel the pride of a father he never knew.

Hodor cast a glance at the boy and silently sighed. He knew that look in his eyes for he had seen it many times in his life. Faelor, like many other children out there, longed for a real family and acceptance; something that he and Tuka could never truly give him.

Oh, Hodor and his daughter loved the lad like he was their own but it was different than that of a real family.

Faelor's situation was sad but Hodor had far bigger things to worry about. In the past few months, he felt a sudden…change in the air after the opening of the sacred Gate at Alnus. He prayed to Wareharun to enlighten him but the only response he got was that a great change was coming; for better or for worse was anyone's guess.

Hodor was left with more questions than answers at that until he heard rumors from scouts that just days ago, they spotted a caravan of seventeen Imperial soldiers hauling goods and slaves.

Now, this was usually not something the Oflai concern themselves with unless it was their own but this was different if not for the fact that these soldiers were part of the invasion force, and most of them were grievously wounded and some were even raving mad. And their captives look nothing like they had ever seen before; they were human but they were dressed differently.

Hodor assumed that they were wounded soldiers sent back to deliver the initial spoils of their conquest until further rumors surfaced. These men were actually what was left of the invasion force after facing something beyond the Gate and that the Empire was mobilizing for a full scale war.

He would not have believed it until he saw a contingent of Imperials riding hard South towards the Gate and a visit from Thasah Paige, the Apostle of Wareharun, about a great and terrible power from beyond the Gate will soon invade the continent.

Needless to say, the scattered tribes of the Oflai were on high alert. Hodor had already consulted this with his fellow leaders and those of the different tribes. They had agreed to either remain hidden or to flee North if things became dire.

' _I hope this is the best course of action.'_ Hodor said to himself before he continued eating and listening to his daughter's fantastical stories.

The girl had an amazing imagination.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: ELBE KINGDOM – OBERNDORF**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 19, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 14:10:29**_

* * *

King Duran was pacing in his study as he was deep in thought. He had just received a message from Woldemar Vi Meridius, the newly appointed Supreme Commander of the Imperial Army, requesting that Elbe and the other tributary states to mobilize their armies and march North to the Gate where they would be joined by three Legions in defending the Gate. It also contained a crash course of the man's plan.

The King of Elbe hummed to himself; he has been hearing rumors that the Saderan invasion force suffered near total annihilation in just under an hour upon their arrival and only a handful of men were lucky enough to survive.

He knew that rumors were seldom true so he instructed his agents in the Capital to find out the truth, and he was sure the other kings had done this as well. He has yet to hear anything from them but he did not have the luxury of time now.

Duran knew that he could not ignore an order directly from the Supreme Commander and sponsored by the Emperor himself for long. For another, he knew Meridius and he knew that the man would not ask help of this magnitude if he was not serious, and things were note dire.

Understandably, this was quite the dilemma but the King of Elbe knew what he had to do. He shall assemble his armies but he must meet with the other kings to explain to them of his plan for he is quite sure that Molt will manipulate this to kill them all.

Italica would have to take care of itself for a little while longer, he was afraid. _'I'm sorry, my friend. I cannot act directly with this order in my hands. But I have sent a hundred men to Italica four days after I received your letter. Until I can personally ride there, my men shall defend your people and daughter with their lives.'_ He though to himself before he began to write secret letters addressed for his fellow leaders.

In it, he detailed that the vassal states should comply with this order and assemble their armies but only just enough to show that they were doing something. Until they learn more of the current situation, they should not fully commit citing that Molt – the snake that he is – would have something in mind for their demise.

Once he was finished and satisfied with the missives, Duran called for his attendant. _"My king."_ The attendant bowed his head in respect.

" _Here. Take these and dispatch riders for the other states."_ He commanded, handing the letters to the attendant. _"And send word to my War Council…the Empire has ordered us to join their war."_

The attendant hesitated for a moment before he nodded. _"At once, my lord."_ With that, he quickly left.

Duran was left to his thoughts and there was a lot to think about. If the Empire was truly at war, then what kind of enemy did they provoke to make them mobilize the entire army? He did not know and that is what worries the king. With very little information to act on, he was making decisions blind from here on out.

" _Just what have you gotten us into, Molt? And what are you planning…?"_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: ITALICA – FORMAL ESTATE**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 20, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 15:03:04**_

* * *

The city of Italica has not been the same since the people received news of the ill-fated expedition that cost them two thousand of their father, sons and brothers and their beloved Count.

Once, the city was bustling with hardworking yet content people. Under the compassionate yet stern leadership of Count Formal, his lands prospered and the people happy. Even when he gave the three demi human races sanctuary in his lands, there was only mild trouble in the transition.

Now though, the air of the city was somber. The news of this tragedy hit them hard and families gathered to the streets to pray and mourn for their lost loved ones.

In the Formal's Estate, the servants were working diligently to maintain the beauty and functionality of the facilities but it was clear that they too feel great loss.

Some of the servants there, both human and otherwise, mourned for the loss of the Count but some of them had also lost friends, lovers, and husbands.

For the demi humans, the man they owe much to was gone and that weighed heavily on them. Count Formal had given them a fighting chance to rebuild when he permitted them to settle in his lands and gave them their freedom back. What was left of the Macskans, Lupines, and Lagoans were indebted to him and his family, but now he was dead.

" _Make sure you dust them thoroughly, Matilda."_ A middle aged woman said as she rearranged some flowers in the vase. This is Kaine Dunaid, the trusted head maid of Clan Formal. She has graying hair that was tied in a bun and wore glasses.

" _Yes, madam."_ Matilda, a Leonid, complied as she dusted the throne of the late Count Formal with utmost respect.

Kaine sighed before she looked at the throne and gave a sad smile. She considered the Count a dear friend after coming here all those years ago and had been quite close to his wife, Countess Madelief Formal.

When she first stumbled into Italica about twenty-eight years ago, Kaine had nothing but the ripped clothes on her back. Her hometown of Rosa was burned to the ground by Imperial forces when they did not submit to their rule and the survivors were brutalized.

Kaine had watched her family and friends be slaughtered and burned to ashes screaming; she was twenty-two then and was three months pregnant. Needless to say, by the time she escaped their horrendous clutches after two years, she could no longer bear children.

Her body broken and spirit destroyed, she wandered the land aimlessly for months; forced to sell herself to anyone that would give her food and money.

Near death, Kaine was propped up on some rock by the road and was prepared to die. She had nothing left to live for; her home was gone, her family and were dead and her baby was dead, and she had been forced as a comfort woman for two years.

However, before death could take her, Kaine was rescued by the passing entourage of Clan Formal. The then young Count and his wife took pity on her and decided to take her back to their home and nurse her back to health.

It took her years to live with the pain but Kaine was grateful to the two who saved her life and pledged her services to them. She even gained their trust and friendship, especially Countess Madelief's when she was entrusted to care for her daughters when she was a bit preoccupied.

Kaine let out a small chuckle. _'Elle and Loui always had this rivalry of theirs. Quite the handful, they are when they were children.'_ She mused to herself, remembering all the times the two sisters tried to one up each other even to this day. _'But Myui is such a sweet girl much like her mother.'_

Myui had inherited her mother's gentleness and slightly shy personality. Yet, she can be strong as well; something she inherited from her father but even still, she was only a little girl and the loss of her father shattered her.

Kaine frowned sadly. When Myui heard the news of her father's demise, she collapsed onto the head maid's shoulders and cried as hard as any child would when they lost their last parent.

Since then, Myui had rarely left her chambers and not even when her elder sisters who came from other lands the moment they heard the news could get her to come out.

Just then, she heard a few footsteps coming towards her and saw that it was Baron Gregor Bachrich and a few of his men, and Bozes Co Palesti and a few members of the Order of the Rose.

Baron Gregor Bachrich was one of Elbe's most capable military officers as he and some one hundred Elbian soldiers were sent here by King Duran after he heard the news as part of honoring the request of his old friend. They had arrived five days ago because they had to bypass Alnus Hill for fear of being attacked by whatever it is the Empire had stirred up, and Italica welcomed them. Since then, they did all they could to bolster what remained of Italica's army and offer protection to the young girl.

On the other hand, the Order of the Rose arrived just yesterday. Their reception was a little colder, however, but they were given the respect they were due; especially since Princess Piña Co Lada was with them.

The Princess informed them that they were here to prepare Italica for the arrival for the Empire's Western Legions, as per Woldemar Vi Meridius' orders, and for her to see how Myui was doing.

Since then, the two visitors' kept their distance with one another but they kept things professional between them.

" _Milady Dunaid."_ Greeted Gregor with a slight bow.

" _Head maid."_ Nodded Bozes.

Kaine let out a smile. _"Milord Bachirch. Milady Palesti."_ She returned their greetings. _"How may I be of service to you?"_

Bozes was the first one to speak. _"Her Highness request a meal be prepared and brought to Countess Myui's quarters. The poor girl had finally agreed to eat something."_

At that, Kaine let out a sigh of relief. Myui had eaten very little since she learned of her father's passing and today, she had not eaten breakfast and lunch; even when they were brought to her door. _"I'll see to it right away, Milady. Thank you."_ Bozes let out a small smile before she gave a respectful bow to the Baron and left the premises with her fellow knights. _"And how may I help you, Baron Bachrich?"_

" _We were just doing our routine patrol of the estate when we bumped into them."_ He nodded at the exit, referring to the Order of the Rose. _"We merely accompanied them to see what was going on."_

Kaine nodded with a hum before she cleared her throat. _"If there's nothing else, Milord, I must head to the kitchens."_

Gregor nodded. _"If you like, I can have one of my men to accompany you."_ He offered which Kaine graciously declined.

" _I thank you for the offer but I believe I can manage."_ She then gave him a smirk, her eyes shining with a dangerous glint. _"Old as I may be, I still know my way around a fight, Milord."_

Gregor let out an amused huff. _"I'm sure. Very well, I bid you farewell for now, Milady Dunaid."_

" _And to you and your men as well, Baron Bachrich."_

With that, the two went on their way. Gregor to continue his patrol, and Kaine to the kitchen to order the chefs to prepare a meal for the young Countess.

In Myui's chamber, the young girl was resting her head on Elle's lap as she softly caressed her head. Together with them was Loui who was busy talking with their father's appointed Regent, Viscount Sabastian Fo Rubias, and Princess Piña Co Lada who was talking with one of her knights by the door.

Apart from Sabastian who was there to discuss some official business, they were there to offer some comfort to the young girl. For Elle and Loui, she was their youngest sister and while they may have had their differences, one of the things they agreed on was they sorely loved their little Myui.

When news of their father's demise reached them, Elle and Loui mourned for days before they realized that Myui needed them more than ever. So they rode here together with their husbands and a small contingent of soldiers; even though Elle was already fourteen weeks pregnant.

When the two sisters finally arrived home, they immediately sought out their youngest sibling and when they found her, the three sisters cried in each other's arms.

Elle was grateful that Myui had stopped crying for now but she could still hear her sniffling, so she massaged her head. _"It's all right, sister. We're here."_

"… _I…I miss f-father…sister."_ Myui mewled in sadness as tears began to well up in her eyes again.

" _We all do, Myui."_ Elle agreed with a solemn tone. _"But do you remember what father told us when mother passed?"_ She felt Myui shook her head. _"He told us that mother did not truly die. Her body may not be here anymore but she lives on in our memories and our hearts."_

" _And that she's always watching over us."_ Myui finished.

Elle smiled. _"That's right. Father and mother are together again and they shall watch over us…and we'll watch over you, sister."_

* * *

At the corner, Loui was discussing with Sabastian on the specifics about the arrival of the Western Legion. Understandably, the Viscount was worried about how Italica could harbor so many soldiers in one time. Not to mention handling its coming status as an Imperial staging ground for war.

" _Then there's the question of food and housing for them all. Granted that most shall make camp outside the city walls but the fact remains, Lady Missna."_ Sabastian finished his report and Loui nodded in understanding.

To put it simply, if they were not careful with how they manage this, the coming of the Western Legions would cause some major problems for Italica's economy. Usually, when an army settles near a town or city, they are permitted to take what they need from said town or city.

That includes food, water, clothing etc. but that also means that sometimes, soldiers abuse their stay and strong-arm the locals to comply with their demands. There have been instances where armies have bled towns dry without a care in the past.

Loui knew her history and she knows that this sort of things has happened many times before, and it would not stop any time soon. She doubted something like that will happen under Meridius' watch but he was a very long way from here.

" _I understand your concerns but we can do little, I'm afraid."_ Loui frowned. _"However, we do have the Princess in attendance with us. I'm sure she can assist us with your concerns once we discuss this with her. Perhaps she can pass this along to Meridius himself."_

Sabastian did not like it but knew that it was their only choice at this point. _"Yes, Milady. I'll take this up with the Princess at the earliest."_

" _See that you do, but what about this I'm hearing about missing children?"_ Loui asked. _"I've gone through the records and what I found is disturbing. In the past five years, children have gone missing. Little at first but as of now, over one hundred children have gone missing."_

Sighing, Sabastian nodded is sorrow. _"It is a tragedy, Milady; it's been happening all over Formal lands and even beyond our borders. Count Formal had launched a full scale investigation the instant he was made aware of this, and doubled – tripled the guard patrols. Even with all that, no culprit was ever found. This past month alone, five children have gone missing."_

Loui scowled before cupping her chin in her hand in thought. This is a very serious problem to be had. Children going missing for six years, she could only imagine what the parents were feeling. However, it was clear that this was something organized; there was no way these were isolated incidents nor can this committed by just one in person.

Her father should have made progress with this but he uncovered very little. This meant culprits were good in hiding their tracks. She was willing to wager that they probably paid off the guards to keep their mouths shut or that someone with power was protecting these perpetrators.

According from the reports and his journals, he made the same assumptions as well and deployed agents to sniff around. His latest entry was that one of his agents had gotten wind of something interesting but before said agent could tell the Count what was what, the Emperor called him to arms. After that, the agent went into hiding.

At the very least, Loui had found a lead. The only thing left was to find that agent as soon as possible but she plans to do this in secret; no one else must know for fear of there being a traitor. She will have to talk to her husband about this.

Not to mention that Myui could have been abducted as well. It was a thought that Loui did not want to entertain but all the same, this needed to be stopped.

" _Keep investigating this, Sabastian. I want these bastards caught."_ Loui commanded. _"Find out if any of the guards have taken bribes. I bet whoever they are, they have someone protecting them. There is no possible way that my father could not have caught even one of them; they must have had help from somewhere."_

Sabastian nodded. _"This will be a top priority, Lady Missna."_

" _Thank you, Viscount Rubias."_ Loui sighed tiredly. There may be a war soon but she will be damned if she lets these kinds of things happen in her birthplace under her watch.

* * *

" _Inform me if the food is coming, yes?"_ Piña asked Hamilton who nodded.

" _I shall, my Princess."_ The young woman nodded before she retreated out of the door and Piña took a deep breath before closing it.

She and her Order had ridden to Italica two days after her meeting with Meridius. It took a lot to convince her father about letting Piña help the war effort but he eventually relented. The journey took them four days to complete; they had also passed Godassen's Army who had already passed the Dumas Mountain pass. By the time Piña and her Order had arrived in Italica, all of them were tired.

After the formalities were done and over with, Princess Piña requested an audience with Clan Formal's regent and the eldest daughters of Count Formal. She then informed them of what was to come and asked how was Myui doing.

Piña walked towards the bed and smiled at the girl. She had met Myui when she was no older than five years old and the princess was thirteen at the time. The girl was shy the first time they met but they hit it off quite nicely.

The Princess even let her join a few practice marches with her order – with her father's approval, of course. Piña considered the girl as the little sister that she never had; well, apart from her own young half siblings.

Since then, Piña had divided her time to preparing Italica for the arrival of the Western Legions, and spending time with Myui. It was not an easy task but it had to be done.

" _How is she, Elle?"_ Piña asked as she sat down on the bed besides Myui.

Elle shrugged. _"She's doing better, Your Highness, but not by much."_

Piña nodded before she took hold of Myui's hand. _"You'll be all right, Myui. Your father was…is a great man; I'll miss him greatly. But I promise you this; as long as I'm here, no one will harm you or your family."_ She gave the girl's hand a gentle squeeze to which she returned.

" _Thank you, Your Highness."_ Elle said gratefully.

Just then, they heard someone's stomach growling and Piña chuckled. _"Was that Myui or you, Milady. You are eating for two after all."_

Elle giggled. _"I believe it was young Myui here, Your Highness."_ She ruffled her youngest sister's hair which made her blush in embarrassment. _"And that was a loud growl too."_

Myui hid her face into her sister's lap so to hide her embarrassment. _"…I-I'm hungry…"_

" _Just a few more moments, Myui."_ Piña smiled. _"Your meal will be here soon."_

Several minutes later, there was a knock on the door. _"Come in."_ Elle called out and the door opened to reveal Kaine and a Medusa maid named Aurea coming in with a food cart.

" _Good afternoon, everyone."_ Kaine greeted with a smile. _"I believe it's time for Countess Myui to eat something."_ She said as Myui sat up from her sister's lap. _"I also took the liberty of preparing some snacks and tea for everyone else. Please, help yourselves."_

" _Thank you, Kaine."_ Loui said with a smile as all present grabbed some snacks and tea.

Aurea brought Myui a healthy serving of roasted chicken and vegetables and she began to wolf it down; not even bothering to use the utensils.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: RHO RIVER**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 25, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 10:07:44**_

* * *

The Rho River is by far the largest and longest river on the continent of Falmart with its source being the Thetpar Mountains located at the Northern tip of the continent. The river is home to many flora and fauna; including the Achrins, an aquatic race of demi humans though they can be found in almost all bodies of water in Falmart as long as it is large enough.

It is also viewed as a valuable source of commerce and transportation for the population with many fishing, cargo, and passenger vessels moving up and down it. On one particular vessel, a cloaked figure was sitting by herself in the vessel's lower levels.

From what her cloak would allow, she has short light blue hair and appears to wear a blue robe with white highlights. This was Mabel Forn, the Apostle of Zufmuut.

After her task at Alnus Hill was complete and her Lord Zufmuut had seen what she had seen, she decided to return to the Thetpar Temple to share what she had learned from the Hill.

Even though her task was a success, there was one thing that she did not like about it. When Mabel was observing the Gate, she felt the familiar presence of two of her sisters, Giselle and Rory. Giselle, she could tolerate to an extent but Rory was someone she despised greatly. Being the Apostle of Emroy was bad enough but Mabel held a deep seated hatred for her because Rory tried to corrupt her ancestor, Belle Forn, from the sacred blessings of Zufmuut himself.

That was an unforgiveable sin for her and she strived to prove herself to the elders of the God of Order to be given the honor privilege of being Zufmuut's Apostle.

It was not easy but she had done it and became the new Apostle of Zufmuut. Her tasks were simple; spread the wise gospel of Zufmuut to the masses, bring order to the lands, and crush any signs of chaos. To help her in achieving this, she was given the Blood Diva Sword.

The Blood Diva Sword is a weapon forged by the most skilled masons of the Rhashae and blessed by Zufmuut himself with his power. It is wielded by those of the Forn family ever since; however, there is a price to be paid in order to use it.

In order to wield its power, the sword requires a sacrifice of blood and a heart of those with Forn blood coursing through their veins. Needless to say, there were not a lot of living Forns today.

However, thanks to Mabel's regenerative capabilities and immortality, she can summon the sword as much as she wants without the fear of death.

Nevertheless, after that night, it took her a day of full on sprinting to reach a small port near the city of Rondel. From there, she acquired transportation to head up stream on her journey back to Thetpar but she could not help but think back on those strange beings.

Whoever or whatever came through the Gate looked human but their attire and weapons was different from anything she has seen before. It was obvious that they were soldiers but that was not what got her attention; it was how they felt.

Mabel could feel the familiar grips of war and combat surrounding them; it was clear to her that each one of them were veteran warriors and were very good at what they do. One of them, however, was different.

The one, the Masked One, felt like he was an actual avatar of strife and death. The stench of war and hatred from him was so thick that Mabel had to steady herself. Whoever this was, WHATEVER it was, would most likely the most dangerous of them all.

' _His stench…it's as if Emroy and Palapon themselves decided bless this…thing and make him their avatar.'_ She thought to herself. Although it pains her to admit it, barring the Great Zufmuut, Emroy and Palapon are two of the most powerful dieties of all.

While Emroy is an insane, bloodthirsty and lustful fucker, Palapon is cold, ruthless, and cunning. How those two were brothers, she did not know but if she were willing to guess, that man was more like Palapon than anything.

Palapon is the God of Vengeance, Hatred, Fear, Punishment and Destruction, and he has not taken an Apostle since the one he chose before proved to be…inadequate. If Mabel's guess was correct, he might be interested in the Masked One.

For another thing, how they fight was a spectacle in itself. They were more like assassins than anything else but she could not deny their results. With that help of that strange contraption that rose up in the air, these men were able to wipe out a Saderan camp with no casualties.

One by one, the Saderans fell with all of them running around like lost chickens in the dark while a pack of wolves picked them off. Dishonorable dogs, the lot of them but effective she had to admit they were.

Shaking her head, Mabel decided to dwell on these things when she returned to Thetpar. For now, she is quite interested in that game some people were playing.

Standing up, she went towards them and cleared her throat. _"Excuse me, but do you have room for one more player?"_ She might as well enjoy the trip while she could.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: TYBE MOUNTAINS**_

 _ **DATE: ARBETI 25, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 18:23:47**_

* * *

It was night time and walking along the grassy fields heading towards Mount Tybe was Giselle, the Apostle of Hardy. Before she was reborn as an Apostle, she was once part of the Dravier race, a species of demi humans that possess draconian features.

While she may look like a young adult, Giselle is actually over four hundred years old. Her scaled skin was deep blue in color and adorned with tribal tattoos, and her hair was short and white in color. Her reptilian eyes were gold in color and her attire was a standard yet slightly revealing priestess robes of Hardy; yet her most defining feature was her dragon wings.

Resting upon her shoulder was her weapon, a great scythe forged from the very depths of the Underworld itself. It is said to be an equal for Rory Mercury's own cursed Halberd.

Giselle bristled slightly from a sudden gush of cold wind but it did not bother her much. The Apostle of Hardy was not someone to succumb to mere chilly winds after all.

' _A day of full on running after watching the Gate for days on end.'_ Giselle grouched to herself but let out a smirk. _'Yet, it is good to see that my Mistress' plans are coming to fruition. And it was fun watching those otherworlders work. A shame I couldn't properly greet Rory or Mabel, however.'_

Whoever those otherworlders were, they were very formidable and very capable warriors, she will give them that. Although their weapons and contraptions are strange to her, Giselle did not dwell on those things any more than what was required.

After she was sure her Mistress was satisfied in what she had seen through Giselle's eyes, she immediately headed South towards the Tybe Mountains. After all, a certain someone was expecting her to be there.

Reaching the base of Mount Tybe, Giselle continued going around it until she came upon a cave entrance. From outside, she could hear the deep rumbling breaths of her pet and she let out a toothy grin before she entered.

Once she reached the main chamber of the cavern, she removed her scythe from her shoulder and looked at the massive figure hidden in the shadows. _"Hello, my pet. How are you this night?"_

There was a low but loud growl before the figure began to rise up. It rose to its full height and it was easily over twenty-five meters tall, and each step it took caused small tremors. When it stepped into the light, it was revealed to be one of the most feared creatures in Falmart.

The Flame Dragon. Or more specifically, one of the very last Eslir dragons alive.

The Flame Dragon brought its massive head down to Giselle's level and the Apostle of Hardy patted its snout. _"Such a nice pet greeting your master."_ She let out a smirk. Taming the Flame Dragon was child's play for her because of her race's unique ability to tame dragons. Being made into an Apostle greatly enhanced this ability to the point where she could tame any dragon that she wanted.

" _Move aside. Let me look at what you have created."_ She commanded and the Flame Dragon let out a snarl before it did what it was told.

Giselle cast a simple illumination spell and from the spot where the dragon was laying was a clutch of three eggs. Upon seeing those eggs, the Apostle of Hardy could not help but grin.

Oh yes, things were going very well.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SADERA – IMPERIAL ARMY HEADQUARTERS**_

 _ **DATE: AREBTI 27, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 14:33:17**_

* * *

It was a very busy day for Consul Woldemar Vi Meridius. Almost all of the Northern Legions were already in Sadera and over half of the Eastern Legions have arrived as well.

He and his general staff were busy trying to organize those legions to be ready for the march for Proptor in four days' time where they would ferry them all to the coastal ports on the West bank of the Blue Sea.

Meridius looked at the map of the war room with a grim look while his staff scurried around trying to deliver the necessary orders down the chain.

He knows this new approach was risky but he had no other options to get the legions into the fight quickly. Godassen was already approaching Italica and it would take him an additional week to reach Alnus which gave him another problem.

' _The scout units I sent there have gone quiet.'_ He said to himself grimly. _'Their last report was due…three days ago from today.'_ Of course, there were a lot of reason why there was a delay but Meridius had a terrible feeling about this. That is why he decided that everything to be sped up.

" _My lord Meridius!"_ A voice shouted at him and the Supreme Commander turned around to see a messenger coming towards him and presented to him a letter. _"A missive from the commander of the Eastern Legions, Milord."_

Meridius snatched the letter from the messenger's hand and read it. Its content made him growl in frustration. The bulk of the Eastern Legions have been delayed when their rear guard was ambushed by a small army of brigands and rogue demi-humans. They could not move until they sort it out.

" _That damn fucker. Didn't even say how long he's going to be delayed."_ Meridius crumpled the parchment and threw it to the wall. _"You!"_ He pointed to a passing scribe. _"Prepare a letter for my signature. To the Commander of the Eastern Legions, you better deal with this quickly. We cannot afford any more delays. I will give you only four days to resolve this and march directly to Proptor. Do not test me."_

The scribe finished jotting down what the Supreme Commander had said and quickly went to construct the letter.

Just then, Publius came into the war room and bowed to his mentor. _"My lord, everything is going smoothly. The men are ready for the march to Proptor but almost all of them are ready to drop from exhaustion. They need,at least, a day's worth of rest or we'll lose half of them to fatigue."_

Meridius massaged his temples as he felt it about to explode. _"We can't afford to wait any longer, Publius. Send those who you think can make the march to Proptor and live. The rest have twelve hours to rest, no more than that."_

Publius frowned but nodded all the same and sent a runner to relay Meridius' orders before he joined him in his planning. The Supreme Commander was anxious and judging from experience, that was never a good sign. It was a sign that something was happening now and he cannot do anything to stop it. An enemy they cannot hope to defeat conventionally was knocking on their gates, the Saderan Army was nowhere near battle ready and those same idiots from before trying to undermine his command; the Supreme Commander felt a good three decades older from the stress this was placing on him.

Just then, some unexpected and very unwelcome guests decided to drop in. _"Ah, Consul Meridius. So good to see you doing your duties."_ A condescending voice said that made the aforementioned man to suppress an annoyed growl before he turned around and stared at his visitors.

Low and behold, it was the Crown Prince himself, Zorzal El Caesar, garbed in his royal battle armor and an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. With him was his personal entourage of his closest subordinates and friends but Meridius sees them for what they really are – nothing but monstrous thugs. Including Zorzal, there were five of them and all of them were some of the vilest men in the Empire.

Right beside him, Publius glared hatefully at his older half-brother. Remembering all the abuse he suffered at the hands of that son of a bitch and his minions. It has been said that killing a member of one's family was the greatest sin punishable only by the very worst of judgements but if it meant killing this monster, Publius would gladly do it. The world would probably be a better place without Zorzal and his underlings living in it.

At Zorzal's right side was Orosz Co Greglay, son of an influential senator and the right hand man of the Crown Prince. A man of average height of six feet and one inch with a near perfect physique, and blonde medium length hair. He has a cleft chin and a sharp face and green eyes. He takes great pride in his appearance. For most, he was the epitome of a noble lord and many women would gladly throw themselves at him until they realized the truth too late. A gentleman he may appear but he has a sadistic and insatiable appetite for the female body; a master of seduction, he uses his skills to lure women into his home where he keeps turns them into his sexual pets. There is even a rumor about him letting his dogs and horses rape mothers and daughters while he makes the husbands and fathers watch but it was never proven.

To the right of Greglay was Tasos Ve Stavrik, Zorzal's personal friend and merchant extraordinaire in his own words. He is slightly shorter than Greglay at five feet and seven inches with a horrendously obese body. He has short brown hair, a round face, and brown eyes. Stavrik is one of the leaders of the Empire's Merchant Guild and has his hands in almost all businesses. He has a lust for gold and food; offering loans to those that need them for exorbitant interest rates. When those people could not pay him back, he would take everything from them. In some cases, their wives and daughters so they can work in his brothels or be sold as slaves. In fact, one of the reasons Zorzal waged his stupid war against the three demi human races so he could gain more gold in the slave trade.

At Zorzal's left side was Vildan Jo Djukic, the personal bodyguard of the Crown Prince but to most, he was the Prince's rabid dog. Standing at over seven feet, he is giant of a man with bulging muscles and a square face with a large scar running down the left side. His eyes were amber; sunken, harsh, and showed a barely restrained bloodlust. Meridius knew him well as he witnessed one of his rampages. On the orders of the Crown Prince, he slaughtered an entire village for fun. From what the Supreme Commander heard and saw, hundreds of limbs, torsos, and heads littered the ground and Djukic in the process of squeezing an infant to mush with absolute glee right before the mother's very eyes while she was being raped by his men.

To the left of Djukic was Bassel Lo Reishus, one of the highest ranking officers in the Army and one Meridius's personal enemies. He stands at six feet and three inches with a slightly lean physique, has wavy black hair, an oval face, and hazel eyes. Even though he was the commander of the Army before Meridius took back control, he was no older than twenty nine and only got that via the endorsement of the Zorzal and the subsequent slandering of Meridius' name. Arrogant, prideful, cowardly and careless; under his abysmal command, the quality of the Army had degraded before Meridius took back command. In all his years, he had never seen true combat. Reishus would rather hide behind his men and Djukic like the sniveling bastard that he is – and when there was nothing between him and danger, one can be sure that he will be the first to flee for his life. Rather than do his duty and lead the Army to greatness, he would rather indulge himself in vices and slaves with Zorzal. Reishus always coveted the Supreme Commander's success and position almost as much as the Crown Prince – maybe that is why they got along so well.

Meridius could feel his headache growing with every second passing as he was looking at these fuckers. _"What do you want, Prince Zorzal? I'm a little pre-occupied if you haven't seen."_

Reishus shook his head contemptuously. _"My, I never knew you were lacking in manners, Meridius. Prince Zorzal had graced you with his–"_

" _Remember who you're talking to, Legion Legate Reishus."_ Meridius growled and Reishus immediately shut up. _"Don't you dare take that tone with me, boy. If you know what's good for you, you will shut your mouth and let the Prince speak for himself."_

Reishus gulped in fear and nodded before he slinked back behind of Djukic who had his hand on his sword. Before things could escalate, Stavrik decided to play peacekeeper. _"Please, we did not come here to cause trouble, Consul Meridius."_ As he said that, Zorzal raised his hand to stay his rabid dog's hand. _"We merely came here for the Prince has a request for you."_

" _Then what is it? I haven't got all day."_ Meridius looked at Zorzal in his eyes. _"Your Highness."_

Zorzal had to control himself not to lash out at Meridius for him petulance and blatant disrespect towards his person. Although he would want nothing more than set Djukic on him and watch as he is torn to pieces, that will have to wait for a later date. Fixing a smile, he walked around the war room. _"Since you are a busy man now, I'll humor your request. I want you to give me command of an army."_

Everyone was silent as they digested the Crown Prince's words before Meridius gave him his answer. _"No."_ Publius had the smallest smirk gracing his lips when he saw his brother falter in his step. _"I will not give you command of an army."_

" _Perhaps you didn't hear me, Meridius."_ Zorzal said once he had composed himself and walked towards the stoic Supreme Commander. _"I want you to give me command of an army so I can lead them to victory. A victory you're too afraid to seize for yourself."_ He finished as he was face to face with Meridius.

" _And I'll tell you again, Crown Prince Zorzal El Caesar."_ Meridius said evenly. _"I will never give you, of all people, command of any unit no matter how small. I still remember the fucking blunders you did in your stupid war against the Lagoans, Lupines, and Macskans. I will not let you destroy the Army just so you can stroke your dick and satisfy your delusions of grandeur. And remember that it was your father, the Emperor, that declared that you will stay out of my way."_ With every word he spoke, Zorzal's face morphed to that of rage. _"You have my answer, now get out. You Highness."_

" _You…disrespectful son of a bitch!"_ Zorzal roared in anger as he reached for his sword. _"I am the Crown Prince of the Empire and you dare deny my orders! I'll have the fucking heads of your family brought before your feet for this before I kill you, Meridius!"_

Before he could bring out his sword and swing it at the Supreme Commander, Publius determined that enough was enough and acted quickly. Unsheathing his own sword, he pressed the blade across his half-brother's neck. He saw that everyone had stopped what they were doing when they heard a sword being drawn and him pointing it at the neck of the Crown Prince.

Not a moment later, numerous swords were drawn as well as Meridius' soldiers tried to subdue the Prince's entourage but hesitated when Djukic drew his great sword and advanced on them. _"Tell you rabid dog to stand down before I do something you'll regret, brother."_ To prove his point, he pressed the blade harder in Zorzal's skin.

Zorzal flinched at feeling the sharp blade press against his skin. His heart was beating fast and sweat was pouring down the side of his head. With great effort, he recovered a bit of his bravado and sneered at his half-brother. _"Publius. Why am I not surprised to see you here? It shouldn't be a surprise since you're nothing more than a glorified bastard my father had with your whore of a mother."_ The Crown Prince grinned when he saw Publius grit his teeth. _"How is your mother, by the way? Still whoring herself to the Elites of the Empire? I bet you have dozens of brothers and sisters already thanks to her."_

Publius would want nothing more than to end this fucker here and now but that will only cause him much more grief than he can ever need. _"Is this all you have to say, Zorzal? You've been saying the same exact thing for years now and it's getting very tiresome. Now, take your worthless carcass and your dogs out of Consul Meridius' war room and drown yourselves in wine. That's the only thing you excel at."_ Zorzal was about to say something before Publius pressed his blade harder on the skin; enough to draw blood. _"I won't ask again. Leave or you can face me."_

The half-brothers glared at each other hatefully for several moments before Zorzal ordered his minions to leave with him. _"You two will pay dearly for this."_ He hissed at them before leaving.

Publius took a few calming breaths before he sheathed his sword. _"The play is over. Let's get back to work!"_ He commanded and everyone resumed their duties before he gingerly turned to Meridius who looked at him sternly and gulped. _"F-Forgive me, My Lord. He was about to draw his sword on you and–"_

" _Good work, Publius."_ Meridius let out a small smirk before he wiped it away. _"But like you said, we still have plenty of work to do."_ With that, he walked to the table and looked over the map.

" _Right away, sir."_ Publius said as he joined his teacher in looking over their battle plan. _"You know Zorzal's going to throw a huge fit about this to the Emperor."_

Meridius huffed in unconcernedly. _"Let that evil bastard do what he wants and cry to his father. It will make no difference whatsoever. For now, we have more pressing matters to attend to."_ He fetched the latest reports on the day. _"What is the progress of Godassen?"_

" _Godassen and his army has reached the foot of the Dumas Mountains and will reach Italica in no less than five days."_ He pointed to the Dumas Mountain Pass that they had used for centuries. _"Reaching Alnus Hill? Weeks at the most."_

Meridius frowned. That man was taking too long; if he had his way, the commander he had in mind would already be within Italica's borders by now but there was nothing he could do about it now. _"What about the vassal states?"_

" _They are mobilizing their forces as per your orders but reported numerous delays."_ Publius sighed as he shook his head. _"I don't know if this is intentional or not but their progress is slown."_

The Supreme Commander hummed. _"King Duran knows something is going on. Moreover, I believe he is being cautious here, and got the other leaders to agree to mobilize their armies atba snail's pace. I wouldn't blame them especially if Molt's planning something judging from the look in hus eyes before. But send a letter to them that they must speed up. Alnus Hill must be surrounded."_

Publius nodded and commanded someone to write a letter for Meridius' signature addressed to the vassal kings. After that, they continued to plan for the most important conflict of their country's history.

Unknown to them, their preparations were for naught.

 _ **(Play Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare OST – War Pig)**_

Panning out from the war room, from the city of Sadera, past the Duma Mountains, through the open fields and finally, though the Gate. Travelling through the pitch black interior of the passageway until a light appeared and grew brighter and brighter until...

From the other side of the Gate and into the heart of Manhattan Island, the US invasion force was assembled and ready.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SITE: GAMMA 5 – 7**_ _ **TH**_ _ **AVENUE**_

 _ **DATE: JUNE 18, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 09:09:53**_

* * *

The time was upon them. After thirty-eight days of preparing and intelligence gathering, the United States of America was finally ready to go to war.

For Operation: Terrible Resolve, the US had allocated units from the four branches of the military. The backbone of the invasion force would be the full might of the US Army's reactivated 30th Infantry Division, the 2nd Armored Brigade Combat Team of the 1st Cavalry Division, the 1st and 2nd Battalion of the 82nd Airborne Division's 1st Brigade Combat Team, the 4th Battalion of the 10th Mountain Division's 2nd Infantry Brigade Combat Team, the 5th Battalion of the 17th Field Artillery Brigade's 3rd Field Infantry Regiment, and the 203rd Engineer Battalion.

The US Marine Corps would also get a piece of the action by sending the totality of the 2nd Marine Division as well as elements from the US Air Force's 336th Fighter Squadron, the 75th Fighter Squadron, 4th Special Operations Squadron, and the 28th Bomb Squadron.

Special Operation Forces such as the US Army Special Forces' Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion, 5th Special Forces Group, the 3rd Battalion of the 75th Ranger Regiment, the 160th Special Operation Aviation Regiment, and the US Navy's Special Boat Team 20 would also be present. Their presence there were so they could support Task Force 117.

All in all, the total strength of the US invasion force numbers well over thirty thousand personnel, over three hundred combat vehicles and aircrafts, and thousands of tons of supplies and ordnance. Considering their enemy and his capabilities, the forces the US were deploying had more than enough muscle to effectively curb stomp the Saderans ten thousand times over

Although the sheer weight of the assembled forces was staggering, it would not impede the United States' presence in their own world.

A truly powerful army has been assembled, yes, but they would need to secure a staging point from the other side first. That was what they are here for. Organized along the length of 7th Avenue were two battalions worth of tanks, armored personnel carriers, infantry fighting vehicles, and infantry from the 1st Cavalry Division and the 2nd Marine Division.

Their job was simple: set up a defensive perimeter once they cross through, and dig in good and deep. They were authorized to destroy anything that even remotely appeared hostile. Once the area was secured, troops and equipment from the 203rd Engineer Battalion and the 2nd Marine Division's Combat Engineer Battalion would start pouring in and set up the base of operations with haste.

Easier said than done but thanks to the efforts of Task Force 117 which had deployed there three days prior, there were no hostiles within a twenty kilometer radius. Nothing stood in there way now and that suited the soldiers and Marines just fine.

In the command center located at LaGuardia Airport, LTG Pearce was waiting for the time he would finally unleash the dogs to war. All around him, men and women were busy coordinating with his forces; radio traffic was filled with status reports, taunts, the occasional small talk etc.

Looking at the clock, LTG Pearce hummed. It was 0912 hours; only eighteen minutes more until the war clock starts.

By that time, he will give the order. There will be no epic speech, there will be no fancy theatrics, and there will be no shouts of glory for the President took care of that a month ago. The politicians have already said their piece; now, it was time for the professionals to say theirs with the two things they knew best – fire and steel.

"Lieutenant General Pearce, receiving a transmission from the President and the National Security Council, sir." An operator said.

"Patch them through." The General ordered as he prepared himself to report to the President. The main screen came alive and showed the face of President Jameson and the other members of the NSC. "Mister President." LTG Pearce nodded in greeting.

"General Pearce." President Jameson returned the greeting. "I want a status report. Are our men ready and are there hostiles waiting for them on the other side?"

LTG Pearce silently cleared his throat. "Our forces are primed and ready to move out, Mr. President, once I give the order. As of 0900 hours, elements of Task Force Nemesis have reported no signs of any hostile forces within a twenty kilometer radius. This is the best window we're ever going to get, sir. Once the area is secured, we'll roll in our engineers and have the base set up in mere weeks."

The President and the members of the NSC nodded in satisfaction; happy that there will be no bloodshed this day should everything go smoothly. "Very good, General. Keep us appraised on your progress. Also, we have news that you'd like to hear."

Tilting his head slightly in interest, LTG Pearce waited for what this news was. He got his answer when the Vice President spoke. "As you know, General, we have been debating on whether to call on our allies to support us in our war. The UN and NATO have contacted us and are willing to render in military aid to us."

On any other day, this would be a welcome addition. After all, in war, you take all the help you can possibly get but this is different. "Beg your pardon, Madam Vice President, but we don't really need any help from them." At that, the members of the NSC nodded to his statement.

"We understand that, LTG Pearce, but yesterday we have come to a decision." Secretary Tenner said. "We have agreed to let the UN send a small international force under the command of General John Price to act as peacekeepers and render humanitarian aid. If need be, assist you in your operations. They will arrive in three months time."

LTG Pearce nodded his head in acceptance. He would like to know more of the details but with only minutes before the start of the operation, he will have to find out at a later date. However, the General could still use their help in managing and caring for the refugees and prisoners while the US focuses on ending the war. He will have to consider this in greater detail for later.

"Understood, sir. Is there anything else?"

General Drummond shook his head. "No, that will be all. I know you will have questions on the specifics of this but that can wait when our boys have secured our hold in Falmart. Good luck, Pearce." With that, the connection was severed.

LTG Pearce sighed before he looked at the clock and saw that only five and a half minutes had been taken up by the call. It was a quick one but he would get the support of the UN out of this; even if it was a small one. He knew General Price from the old days; a hard and stubborn man was he, and one of the best men one could ever serve with. Nevertheless, he will worry about that later, for now he had more pressing matters to attend to.

In the raid conducted by Relentless on a Saderan camp three days ago, they sent back images of documents. Some of them were totally useless and most were old news but some contained some very interesting intel. From what the intelligence officers have gathered, there are three Saderan army groups marching like hell to face them and each has an estimated strength of over one hundred thousand or more with another three legions making their way to the Hill. They were the Western, Northern, and Eastern Legions.

Fortunately, an army of that size would take months to march from wherever they are stationed but from what his "expert" told him that their overall commander, Woldemar Vi Meridius, was one crafty son of a bitch. He may find a way to cut their travel time by a few weeks but it would not be enough.

However, the General saw an opportunity with this new detail. Technically and literally speaking, the US was going into another world; a world – or at least part of it – controlled by someone who does not know just who he fucked with besides from hearsay.

The Saderans may think that the US is just another enemy for them or if they do know what America is capable off from the survivors that actually managed to get back, it would too little to make them completely concerned.

As such, US had no real power projection there and LTG Pearce wanted to fix that. Not because of some misplaced patriotic pride and ego, but to hopefully intimidate the Saderans and whoever else who wants a crack at the US that fighting them would only end in misery.

The only way he could see accomplishing that would be to completely destroy at minimum one of those army groups. Choosing one target would have to come later when he knows those legion's exact location but he already has things in mind in how he was going to accomplish this.

Obviously, this would have to be carried out by air strikes as he wanted his ground forces to cut off the Imperial capital as soon as possible. LTG Pearce's first thought was to dispatch an AC-130J Ghost rider gunship to destroy them but he wanted it to be big.

Something that could take out an entire army in one blast and send a damn clear message that fucking with the US is a very bad idea. Of course, he was not talking about WMDs like nukes or nerve gas; that would be too much and Washington would skin him alive if he did that.

No, what he had in mind were two weapons just shy of being considered forbidden – the MOAB and Napalm. The MOAB is considered to be the most powerful conventional bomb in the US Arsenal while Napalm has an infamous reputation for being one of the most gruesome weapons the US can legally use. These two weapons should be more than enough to scare the Saderans out of the war; or at the very least, if their leaders are too stubborn to accept defeat then their soldier's will to fight should be destroyed.

Was it extreme? Of course it was as only a madman would go so far just to prove a point but it was a necessary evil, and Washington could not hound him for this. LTG Pearce was sure President Jameson would not mind since they were conventional weapons and did not need presidential approvals; but the more liberal politicians would cry and moan at the inhumanity when they get wind of this.

Well, it was nothing new for him. Fucking bleeding hearts, the lot of them.

Dropping either Napalm or the MOAB right on top of their heads may be too much for most people but in the long term, it would save more lives if the Saderan leaders see reason. If not, then they only have themselves to blame. Although, there are more variables to consider if he plans to go through with this. He had to take into account their location if those army groups were near civilian settlements, if they were travelling with families and slaves; and if those slaves were American prisoners then his hands would be tied.

Regardless of that, if LTG Pearce was going to go through with this plan, he was required to give the Saderans one chance to surrender. A message to address to their Emperor the US' terms of surrender which he was almost certainly sure was going to be rejected spectacularly.

Well, let it be known that the US gave them their chance for a reasonable end and the Saderans laughed if their faces if that does happen. If the Saderans does sue for peace after all the carnage, LTG Pearce will accept nothing but Unconditional Surrender. Japan had the same opportunity in World War II and they did not take the offer. To this day the nuclear radiation was STILL being cleaned up from the two locations.

Truly, President Theodore Roosevelt's words were the wisest ones any military man could receive. "Speak softly, but carry a big stick."

LTG Pearce sincerely hope they chose the stick.

" **All personnel, be advised: T-minus one minute and thirty seconds."**

The intercom announced and LTG Pearce rolled his shoulders. "Your heard her, boys, almost time for the show. Give me a final status report on our forces and initiate final preparations." The operators acknowledged his orders.

"General, all forces report green across the board." An operator reported. "Final preparations and protocols are completed. Currently awaiting your orders, sir."

LTG Pearce nodded as he and the rest of his staff wait for the time they would commence all operations.

" **T-minus thirty seconds.** "

LTG Pearce scowled as everyone were tense in anticipation. "Patch me through to our ground forces."

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: SITE: GAMMA 5 – 7**_ _ **TH**_ _ **AVENUE**_

 _ **DATE: JUNE 18, 2035**_

 _ **TIME: 09:29:05**_

* * *

In one of the Marine Corps' ACVP-9 sat Lance Corporal John K. Marquez, a young man of twenty one years of age from Wichita Falls, Texas.

LCpl Marquez was a Marine of Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion, 6th Marine Regiment of the 2nd Marine Division and he was a bit nervous. When he joined the Marines, he wanted to be a badass and see the world.

Getting into a few scraps here and there were just for him; after all, he was a Texan and fighting was in their blood since the original fight for independence from Mexico. Fighting in a full-fledged war, however, was something he did not expect. What was more, they were going through some freaky ass looking Gate into a new fucking world! Shit like that do not happen…ever but here it is.

Well, there was no point in bitching about it now. They attacked his home, had the absolute balls to straight up say that they now own their country, murder thousands of innocent people, and enslave a God knows how many more?

Now that shit just will not slide.

They were Marines. Born and made to kick ass and take names of whoever was stupid enough to piss them off.

He looked around and saw his fellow Marines readying themselves. _'Shit, better do the same.'_ LCpl Marquez sheepishly said to himself before he checked his equipment. Everything was in fine working order.

" **T-minus thirty seconds."**

The Marines heard the notification. "All right, Marines. Thirty seconds to game time! Command wants us to secure a beachhead with the Army pukes. After we cross, we dig in and defend it ferociously. In other words, we do what Marines are best at: KILL EVERYTHING IN OUR FUCKING WAY! Oorah?!" LCpl Marquez' platoon leader, Second Lieutenant Paul E. McSherry, said.

"Oorah!"

"Bullshit, I can't hear you!"

"OORAH!"

2ndLt McSherry nodded. "That's fucking better! Marquez, once that ramp comes down, I want that M250 SAR of yours set up. Anything comes at us you cut the fucker in half."

LCpl Marquez nodded. "Oorah, LT!"

Just then, their comms came to life. "All combat units, this is Warlord. Operation: Terrible Resolve is a go. Move in."

As soon as the General gave the order, every single vehicle roared to life. At the command APC, the ACVC-9A1, the appointed commander of the incursion force, Lieutenant Colonel Bryan S. Freeman of the US Marine Corps, relayed the order to his men. "All right, you heard the General, let's move out! 2-1 Delta, lead out!" He ordered and the lead M1A3 Abrams tank from the 2nd Tank Battalion roared as they lead the column to the Gate.

LtCol Freeman had spent the better part of the morning coordinating with his forces and Central Command to make sure he and his men were more than read came. In addition to the latest intelligence available, he also had a live feed of the aerial drone of Task Force Nemesis to scope out the area for anything that e like a hostile, and the terrain features. LtCol Freeman was glad to see that the area was all clear and the terrain was damn near perfect with them having the full 360 degree view.

This should be a walk in the park but he knew not to get lazy.

On the sides, authorized news crews from both nationwide and global news channels brought the beginning of Operation: Terrible Resolve to millions of viewers all around the world.

Most of America was cheering their brave soldiers on; urging them to kill every last one of those pigs and bring their people back home. Some, however, were less grim in their thoughts and urges. True, they wanted these scum to pay but all they want was their loved ones back home; or at least, the body so they could lay them to rest.

LCpl Marquez and his platoon jerked backwards when their vehicle lurched forward. "This is it, boys." He said as he shook himself to get rid of his nervousness.

"What's the matter, Rebel? Scared shitless?" One Marine, Cpl Yancy U. Whitlow, chuckled.

"Going into a new world, fighting some roman look-a-like motherfuckers and God knows what else, and all these fantasy level crap we got to worry about? Yeah, more than a little."

As the lead tanks entered the Gate, all the crews could see what total darkness. "Driver. Lights on." The tank commanders ordered and the tanks' lights came on. "2-1 Delta to all victors. Be advised: its pitch dark in here. Keep you speed steady and don't stray. Don't want to get lost in here. Over."

All of the convoy acknowledged.

As the ACVP-9 LCpl Marquez and his platoon were riding in crossed the threshold of the Gate, their world became dark until the red lights came on. "Shit…we're really doing this, huh?" A Marine asked over the comms.

"Yeah, and going through this…whatever it is. How long is this thing anyway?" Another Marine asked.

"Fuck knows, dude. All I want is for this hunk of junk to speed up so we can get out of here." This time, a soldier replied and all agreed with him.

Deciding to change to subject to a lighter tone, Cpl Whitlow cleared his throat. "So…what do you guys think those Saderan shits going to do once we kick their asses?" His question got the desired effect.

"Probably going to bend over and say, "Please'ah stop'ah! We'ah didn't'ah mean it'ah, we'ah swear'ah!"" Someone said with a horrendously bad imitation of the Italian language but everyone laughed at it.

"Bro! They're not even Italian!" Cpl Whitlow hollered before he laughed again.

"Works for me!" That same person laughed. "This is fun, who else got some?"

LCpl had a bit. It was from an old video game he used to play. It needed to be modified a little but he felt that it was really appropriate for this. "I got one."

Cpl Whitlow whistled. "Shit, really? Well, let's hear it then, man. Don't hold out on us."

Clearing his throat, LCpl Marquez began to say his piece in a gruff but light hearted tone. "Dear Americans, we regret being Roman-wannabe bastards. We regret trying and failing to invade your awesome country. And we most definitely regret the Corps just whooped our collective pussy asses!"

" **OORAH!"**

All over the convoy, Marines and soldiers alike were laughing their asses off. "D-Dude! You fucking geek!" A soldier tried to speak between laughs. "Y-You fucking…ripped that off from…H-Halo 2!"

* * *

Back at the command center, LTG Pearce and his staff were listening to the men joke and laugh about all this. Hell, he even cracked a few smirks at a few of them; especially the last one. Looking around, he could see that some of the operators were trying to hide their amusement.

He could understand the need for humor in situations such as this. It gives the body some time to relax and unwind the mind just for a bit to get all the stress out. As helpful as it may be, however, he has let it gone on long enough.

"Let me talk to them." He commanded and the operators immediately straightened up. Once he had the go ahead, he began to speak. "All units, this is Warlord." At the mention of his callsign, the laughter and jokes quickly stopped. "As much as I find all this funny, gentlemen, but we still have a job to do and it's not being comedians. So can the jokes and be ready for contact, or I can you. Am. I. Clear?"

" **SIR, YES, SIR!"**

"Good."

* * *

Several minutes of driving in total darkness later, the lead tanks could not see the exit. "2-1 Delta to all victors. I got a visual on the exit. Prepare for contact. Over."

At the words, "exit" and "contact", the Marines and soldiers all readied themselves for a fight. LCpl Marquez gave his weapon and equipment one last good once over. Once he was sure that everything he had was ready to go, he waited patiently for the go ahead.

"Catfish 6 to Nightmare Actual. We are about to exit the Gate. ETA: fifteen seconds. /Break/. Bet you guys are happy to see us, huh?" LtCol Freeman chuckled at the last bit.

"Roger that, Catfish 6." Nightmare simply replied and left it at that.

Two at a time, tanks, IFVs and APCs began pouring out of the Gate and immediately formed up to secure a perimeter around the Gate. The tanks took their place at the front of the defensive line to protect the IFVs and APCs while they unloaded the troops.

LCpl Marquez and his platoon were ready to spring into action once that ramp comes down. He could feel his muscles tense up excitement and nervousness, but he focused himself. There should be no enemies here but it is better to be prepared.

After a few seconds, the ramp came down and the Marines poured out of it. "Go, go! Set up your perimeters!" 2ndLt McSheery hollered as hundreds and Marines and soldiers scrambled to a firing position.

After finding a good firing position, LCpl got down on his stomach and aimed his M250 SAR downrange; ready to tear anything that presented itself as a threat to pieces…provided it survives those tanks firing at it.

"Warlord, this is Catfish 6. We have successfully crossed and are securing the perimeter. /Break/. Standby for sitrep. Over."

"Roger that, Catfish 6. Warlord copies all."

For several minutes, the American's scanned their sectors for any hostiles but true to the reports they have been given, there were none. Still, until the all clear was sounded, all of them would have to remain diligent.

That does not stop them from admiring the beauty of this new world, however. "Damn, would you look at that." Cpl Whitlow whistled. "I've seen some beautiful country in my time but this is something else."

LCpl Marques could not help but agree with him. "I hear you. The air's the cleanest I've ever breathed and grasslands for miles around. To be honest, I wouldn't mind being stationed here after this war is over. Besides, the way home is literally like a ten minute drive anyway."

Cpl Whitlow chuckled. "True that."

Fifteen minutes have passed with no activity to report so Col Freeman decided it was safe to sound the all clear. "All units, this is Catfish 6. All clear. I repeat, all clear." As soon as he said that, the Marines and soldiers slightly relaxed. "Warlord, Catfish 6. Area secured. Pushing forward to secure more ground."

"Roger that, Catfish 6. Sending the engineers and supplies in now."

"All right, all units, forward. Three hundred meters. Charlie victors, remain at your current positions with your platoons. Over." Lieutenant Colonel Freeman ordered. No less than ten seconds later, the tanks rolled forward at a steady speed followed by the IFVs with the troops hanging back for protection. The APCs and four platoons of soldiers remained at the position to ensure the safe crossing of the engineers and keep watch on the high ground.

As Col Freeman was walking with the troops, he received an incoming transmission from the SpecOps team in the AO. "Nightmare Actual to Catfish 6. Welcome to Fatima."

The Colonel let out a huff. "What a bitch."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **The Americans have finally come. After so long :`). I added and changed a few things from canon if you haven't noticed but it's for the best. I think we can all agree that the elves in canon are severely underscored, yeah? Not much of a history and that nonsense about them having to learn all by themselves? No, I read Lord of the Rings and played a little Warcraft, they deserve better. So that's why I gave them history they deserve. Besides, Legolas is a Wood Elf so…**_

 _ **Hope you guys like what I've been doing with the Empire and Falmart here. Give some much needed details and intrigue instead of just the admittedly bland blow-everything-up-end-of-story kind of thing.**_

 _ **Anyway, the Americans have finally come! The war is finally here and believe me, it WILL be a war. Enjoy!**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Special thanks to Cloud Link Zero and Trainalf for once again helping me with this story and to all the viewers out there.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy!**_

* * *

 ** _Chapter VIII – Almawt Sharir_**

* * *

" _And when he had opened the second seal, I heard the second beast say, come and see. And there went out another horse that was red. And power was given to him that sat thereon to take peace from the Earth, and that they should kill one another. And there was given_ _unto him a great sword." – Revelation 6:3-4_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: IRAQ – AL-HAWIJA DISTRICT – HAWIJA**_

 _ **DATE: MARCH 17, 2013**_

 _ **TIME: 11:47:04**_

* * *

Located approximately one hundred and eighty miles North of Baghdad is the city of Hawija. It is the center of the Al-Hawija District of Central Iraq and has seen its fair share of violence over the last decade – especially during the US invasion of Iraq.

Ten miles outside of Hawija was the US Forward Operating Base: K33 that housed a few thousand soldiers, vehicles, and aircraft from the 3rd Infantry Division's 1st Armored Brigade Combat Team and 3rd Combat Aviation Brigade. They were tasked with overseeing the city and help keep the peace and order, and to keep a close eye on the city for any Islamiyah Liberation Front activity in the area but that changed when ODA 5211 was deployed there not five weeks ago. They were here for one reason and one reason only: Kaarim al-Abdelnour.

Kaarim al-Abdelnour – a nasty piece of work, a religious fanatic and one of Khaled Al-Assad's top lieutenants, and his personal executioner before his death at the hands of Captain Price. Kaarim, along with a few other members of Al-Assad's cabinet, managed to escape the nuclear blast and start a new organization.

Kaarim's reputation was that of savagery even before Al-Assad's rise to power. He enjoyed inflicting pain upon others and took great pleasure in mutilating them. His most preferred method of torture was using a blow torch to melt his victim's flesh off.

Presently, he acts as the ILF's primary enforcer and commands an estimated seven hundred fighters in his cell – all of whom are as sadistic as him.

ODA 5211 has earned a reputation as being one of the most capable in the 5th Special Forces Group and were hunting Kaarim for weeks now but now, they would not hunt alone. Together with them were three teams – Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie – from 10th Special Forces Company of the Philippine's Special Forces Regiment.

For the Americans, this was just another mission. For the Filipinos, this was personal.

It was just speculations but there was evidence that indicated that Kaarim al-Abdelnour was one of the principal suspects linked to the 2009 SM Manila chemical attack in the Philippines by pumping Chlorine gas into the mall's ventilation system during their busiest time of operations. Hundreds of innocent men, women, and children died in extreme agony while thousands more were left with their respiratory systems ravaged almost beyond repair.

It was one of the worst chemical attacks in recent memory and understandably, the Filipinos wanted payback. It took some serious negotiations and politicking but the Philippine President had gained authorization from NATO officials to send in a limited number of troops to assist in the mission.

ODA 5211 and the three teams had been hunting him for months now and every time, he escaped their grasp to inflict more carnage. From the intel the Green Berets got from the informant in Sabaa Al-Bour, they tracked Kaarim down to somewhere in Central Iraq…but it was a big place. They were lucky because they have cornered him in Hawija and had evacuated the civilians…but there were still more than a few stubborn people there.

Today, a platoon of soldiers reinforced by ODA 5211 and Alpha Team were patrolling the Industrial District of Hawija. The idea was to go door-to-door on every structure in the city and flush the insurgents out. Dangerous work but it had to be done and the Americans already suffered thirty casualties in the last week alone.

In the lead vehicle, CPT Summers was riding shotgun and coordinating with the patrol's commander, 2LT Ian Maltby, and Alpha Team's commander, CAPT Nickolas Estefan C. Ferrer, who was riding in the back left side. They had reason to believe that there was ILF activity here. "We've been looking for this son of a bitch in the godforsaken city for three weeks. Every other day, we find what's left of some poor fuck Kaarim got his hands on…yesterday was one of ours." The Lieutenant said solemnly.

CPT Summers hummed. When he and his men went out to scout a suspected location of Kaarim's men, they found nothing but the remains of CPL Jim Wesley, a kid from Kentucky. When they found him, his hands and feet were torn off, his eyes were gouged out, his guts all over the place, and the Arabic word for PIG crudely carved on his chest.

What happened to CPL Wesley was only the latest in Kaarim's long list of victims and had sparked outrage within the units and back home at the barbarity.

Ever since Kaarim and his boys moved into town, they had been laying IEDs and setting ambushes all over the city. American and civilian casualties were already in the hundreds. They also have been known to target school children in order to stop girls from being educated as per their beliefs.

What was more was the reports and eye witness accounts of Kaarim himself performing public executions of civilians and captured American soldiers using his favorite blow torch. It was a gruesome sight to behold once they found their dead…you could not even recognize the remains once the bodies were recovered.

Consequently, his brutality made it harder for the Americans to find him because the people were too afraid to rat him out lest they become his next victims. It was an understandable sentiment but an unfortunate one nonetheless.

"People're scared, Captain. This guy's chewing us up to bit by bloody bit." 2LT Maltby sighed. "We can't keep this up much longer."

"Roger that, Lieutenant." CPT Summers nodded. "Kaarim's got nowhere else to go. We've locked down the city with twenty-four-hour surveillance – only way out is through us and that asshole knows it."

"And he will have no where to run when we get our hands of him." CAPT Ferrer said. He felt vindicated in their mission to kill or capture because he had lost loved ones in the attack – his older brother and his family.

When CAPT Ferrer found them, his brother was holding onto his wife and their two children in an embrace. He was probably whispering words of comfort before they died. As he buried them, the Captain swore on their graves that he would avenge their deaths and by God, he will.

"Yeah, but why do I get the feeling he's the one hunting us, sir." Their gunner, SFC Francisco A. Moran, one of ODA 5211's Engineer Sergeants, said. "Spent ten years training and operating with cells from South East Asia all the way to South America before getting a job in with Al-Assad. The guy's got one hell of a résumé, sir."

CPT Summers nodded. "Yeah, well, so do we. Kaarim and his boys are nothing more than rabid animals and somebody needs to take them out. Just so happens to be us."

"Agreed."

"Well, at least we have the chance to nail that son of a bitch here and now. The question now is to find his ass – easier said than done." Their driver and one of ODA 5211's Medical Sergeants, SSG Emile K. Smith, said.

Twenty minutes into the patrol and some of the soldiers were not liking how things were going – it was too quiet. Normally, this would not be a bad sign. After all, if everything was quiet then they could all go home and live another day…but they just have this gut feeling that something was about to go down.

2LT Maltby looked around. "I don't like the looks of this."

"Same." CPT Summers muttered as he and CAPT Ferrer watched the rooftops. "5211 Bravo, this is Alpha. Interrogative: you guys see anything out there?"

"No activity to report, sir…you think we might be walking into an ambush, Cap?" ODA 5211's second in command and leader of the ground team, Chief Warrant Officer 2 Harry Collins, asked.

"I wouldn't discount it, Collins. Just keep your eyes-"

"One o'clock. Two hundred meters. Possible activity spotted." A Green Beret reported, dropping down low and aiming his weapon which was followed by everyone hugging the walls and car wrecks for protection.

2LT Maltby ordered the patrol to halt and assume a defensive posture as CPT Summers leaned forward to get a better look. "All units, report. Tell me what you see."

"This is Meadow 2-2. I got nothing on my end."

"2-3, nothing on the scope."

"2-5, all clear on my end, sir."

"Negative on movement."

CPT Summers nodded but they stayed on high alert for a few minutes before he gave the go ahead to move. "Let's move. Keep scanning your sectors and proceed with extreme caution. Stay frosty, we're almost at Checkpoint: Kilo." With that, the patrol resumed its movements but with everyone expecting a fight.

CPT Summers cast a glance at the one who reported the suspicious activity, SGT Westbrook, who was carefully traversing the streets with the rest of ODA 5211 and Alpha Team. There was no denying that the man was good – very good, in fact.

He joined the Army at the age of seventeen in order to pay for his college education. Then he found out that the Army life suited him and stuck with it after completing college. It was not surprising seeing as serving in the military seems to run in his family.

In his first deployment, SGT Westbrook was still a Private Frist Class then and part of 90th Infantry Division in Afghanistan. He and his squad were sent to investigate a suspected insurgent ammo cache when they were ambushed. Out of the nine-man squad, only four survived and one of them was the Sergeant.

The report said that they were in danger of being overrun…until Westbrook grabbed a discarded M249 SAW and put down enough hostiles and rounds downrange to scare off the rest of them.

He has not even reached the age of twenty and he was already baptized in fire.

CPT Summers had read about that and what this kid did was impressive. His squad was all but cut to pieces, and Westbrook just up and answered back with his own. The Captain knew how hard it could be when everything goes wrong in your first taste of combat.

Most of the time, a soldier freezes up and everything around him turns black. All he can hear is the sound of gunfire, explosions, and the dying screams of his brothers-in-arms. He should know, this happened to CPT Summers once but there were a precious few who managed to squash the fear down and do what was needed to survive. He was one of those and apparently, so was this kid.

The Captain saw potential in this young soldier; he could use someone like him and wanted to recruit him. It was just his luck that the kid's contract was an 18X one – granting him a shot at the Special Forces Qualification Course after he completes Infantry One Station Unit Training and Airborne Training.

When Westbrook completed his training with the US Army Special Forces, he graduated at the very top of his class. Everything the instructors and CPT Summers threw at him, he excelled – especially in the marksmanship phase to which the Captain can attest to as he trained him.

Although he had the makings of an excellent Green Beret, SGT Westbrook tended to keep to himself and very quiet. He had trouble making friends with the rest of his team for a while due to his unwillingness to mingle but he eventually managed it once they saw how capable he really was in training and executing missions. The professionalism and efficiency he displayed was enough to earn the respect and trust of his teammates.

Then that thing with him shooting a kid shook SGT Westbrook up pretty hard. No one could blame him though – killing a kid, no matter if he was hostile, was still killing a kid. The team tried to talk to him in their free time but he assured them that he was fine – that he could handle it.

It took a while but SGT Westbrook eventually got out of his funk but ever since they witnessed the atrocities of Kaarim on the civilians and American troops, SGT Westbrook began to change. It was small at first, most changes were, but he became colder – detached the more time passed.

In the following weeks, SGT Westbrook became increasingly ruthless and cold blooded when dealing with the enemy. Just five days ago, CPT Summers just barely stopped him from executing a surrendering ILF fighter with a shotgun.

The Captain tried talking with SGT Westbrook on their free time – about his change in behavior and unacceptable methods. He responded that he was only doing his job and their mission – nothing more, nothing less. Not even a mandatory psych evaluation was enough to stop him because the shrink determined that the Sergeant was of sound mind.

CPT Summers knew of men that fell to the grips of war – he saw it with his own eyes about how they became unfeeling and cruel monsters. Now, he was seeing this kid on his way to becoming one as well.

As they were moving past an alley way, they did not notice a Claymore mine that was hidden under the garbage. When an American team passed through it, the mine detonated and sent hundreds of red hot steel balls to the US and Filipino troops. The pellets ripped the soldiers apart and the explosion disorientated the soldiers of the patrol and ground it to a halt.

"Shit! Fucking IED!" 2LT Maltby coughed before they were hit with small arms fire from all sides.

"Ambush! Coming from every direction!" SPC Moran shouted.

"Smith, get us out of here! All units, retreat! Retreat back to the safe zone! Moran, cut them all to pieces!" CPT Summers order before he aimed and fired his weapon at the hostiles.

"Putang ina! Alpha Team, sundin nyo ang orders ng Americano at return fire!" _**("Son of a bitch! Alpha Team, follow the American's orders and return fire!")**_ CAPT Ferrer ordered before joining the fire fight.

SSG Smith put the vehicle in reverse and was about to hit the gas when he spotted a goddamn raghead with an RPG about to fire. "RPG! Everyone out!" No sooner than he said that, the ILF fighter fired and the RPG zipped to the HMWVV.

The occupants of the HMWVV managed to escape by the very skin of their teeth – their ears were ringing and they were a bit singed but it was better than to be blown into bits. Those in the rear vehicle, however, were not as lucky.

"GOD-AMN! -G took - th- l-st ve-cle!"

CPT Summers could not hear shit from all the ringing but he was quite sure that the last vehicle was also knocked out. Which meant that they were trapped; just fucking great.

Ignoring the pain, he tried to lift himself and get back to the fight but he felt a bullet hit his side…then another on his chest and abdomen. The Captain screamed and tumbled to the street - his blood leaking from his wounds.

"Man down! Man down! The Captain's been hit!" He could hear someone shout out in the comms but he did not care for he was busy trying to keep his guts in. Despite the pain, he tried to see what their situation was…and it was not good.

2LT Maltby was dead – a piece of shrapnel tore half of his head off. SFC Moran had been hit by a stray on his upper side and was losing blood fast. While pretty banged up himself, SSG Smith was busy dragging Moran to cover. CAPT Ferrer was trying to pick himself up but appeared to be all right.

From what he counted, there were only nineteen men left standing out of the thirty-plus they had initially, and those numbers were dropping rapidly. He could see dozens of ILF fighters converging on their position – they even had a few technicals coming at them.

All in all, the Americans and Filipinos were lethally exposed and if they did not get to a more defensible position, they would all be fucked.

The Captain tried to call out an order but he just coughed up blood instead. One of his lungs must be shot – he could feel it filling up with his blood. In fact, he did not know he could feel anything right now.

Sixteen men left standing. He could see CAPT Ferrer trying to lead what was left of them in the literal fight for their lives.

' _Bastards were just waiting for us.'_ The Captain grunted to himself. He should have seen this coming but who gives a fuck now. The objective now was to get out of this alive but the chances of that happening was getting smaller and smaller with each passing second.

Despite the pain, CPT Summers tried to crawl his way to cover but he was too slow – another bullet hit him on the leg. He was pretty sure his femur was gone now.

This was probably it for them. The Captain's vision began to blur as he was slipping into unconsciousness but just before he went out, he caught a glimpse of someone dragging him away.

* * *

"CAPT Ferrer, we need to fall back to that apartment building to our rear!" SGT Westbrook shouted over the noise as he tried to do what he can to stabilize his commanding officer. He may not have any extensive medical training but he knew enough to save lives.

CAPT Ferrer looked at the rear and saw the apartment building. As much as he wanted to keep fighting against these scumbags, he wanted to live through it, preferably with all his limbs intact. "Okay! All this unit, this is Alpha Leader, fall back to the building to the rear! Move!" He said before coming to help SGT Westbrook in dragging CPT Summers to safety.

"Jimmy, take what's left of our guys and lay down some covering fire! Moran, give him a hand!" SGT shouted and SGT James Rawlins, ODA 5211's other Medical Sergeant, nodded as he and the patched up SFC Moran began spraying as much rounds as they could with their M249 SAWs.

The volume of fire was enough to give the enemy some pause but it would only last a few moments. Thus, what was left of the patrol dragged itself and the wounded to the apartment on their six o'clock.

SGT Westbrook and CAPT Ferrer were the first to reach the apartment and propped CPT Summers on the wall as soldiers began piling in. "Stay here, we'll hold them off."

"W-Where's the rest?" CPT Summers asked as he clutched his stomach wound in pain.

"Dead, sir. 5211's just you, me, Billy, Jimmy, and Moran. Over half of the Platoon is shot to pieces – I don't know about Alpha Team though."

CAPT Ferrer sighed. "Six men standing." Out of the original fourteen men in his outfit, over half of them were lost in this ambush. It was a hard blow for him.

CPT Summers winced in pain at hearing that but he did not have time to mourn. "We…need to call for r-reinforcements…!"

SGT Westbrook nodded. "Collins took care of that, sir…before he took a bullet to the throat. QRF's coming – ETA: fifteen minutes. Billy, take care of the Captain! Don't you die on me, sir. CAPT Ferrer, let's do this." Without waiting for a reply, the two joined the rest in defending this position as SSG Smith and the other medics tended to the wounded.

SGT Westbrook and CAPT Ferrer took up positions by the windows just as SGT Rawlins and SFC Moran went through the door and took up defensive positions with the others. "What's the deal, Westbrook?!"

"Reinforcements are coming, Moran. We just need to hold them off until they get here." SGT Westbrook said before he let out a three-round burst and took out an ILF fighter.

"Hindi tayo matatagalan dito!" _**("We won't last that long here!")**_ A Filipino soldier said before he was hit in the chest – fortunately, his body armor saved his ass but it still hurt like a bitch. "Punyeta!" _**("Fuck")**_ He shouted, feeling like he was hit with a metal pipe to the chest.

"Kill them all." SGT Westbrook grunted as he and those left standing tried their damndest to keep the enemy at bay.

About three minutes into the gunfight, they lost another one of their own. A rookie named Hoyle – poor kid got shot to hell after throwing a grenade out. He did not move fast enough to duck behind the wall and it cost him dearly but the grenade did manage to rip three or four enemies apart.

At least that was something. Now, there were only seven men left to fight against dozens – maybe hundreds – of enemy fighters.

SGT Westbrook growled as he loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle and continued firing. These bastards were really putting on the pressure – concentrated fire on their position with AKs, RPGs, and machine guns. Hell, they might have enough ordnance to level this building just by shooting at it.

Just as he was about to duck for cover, someone just had to be lucky for a second and managed to hit him on the shoulder and at his chest with a burst. SGT Westbrook went down with a yell as blood spray out of his wound.

"Goddammit, Westbrook's down!" SGT Rawlins yelled before going towards him to see the damage. "Lucky son of a bitch – armor saved your ass, man, but I think the one in your shoulder's still in there. Got to get you to the back, come on." He went to loop SGT Westbrook's arm around his shoulder to carry him out but he was stopped.

"Don't even think about it, Rawlins. Just patch up my damn shoulder and get back to the fight." SGT Westbrook said but he saw SGT Rawlins hesitate so he growled. "Now."

"Buti naman lalaban ka pa, pre!" _**(Good, you're still in the fight, bro!")**_ CAPT Ferrer commented as he ducked behind cover; respecting this American's will to fight.

Another RPG slammed into the walls and shook the building before SGT Rawlins relented, and worked to dress the wound so they could continue fighting. When he was done, he handed SGT Westbrook his weapon and went back to position.

Moving his shoulder stung SGT Westbrook and it stung bad. Every time he moved even an inch, the bullet would grind on his bone but he would not let it stop him.

After all, rage is a hell of an anesthetic and he was feeling a lot of it.

After six minutes of intense fighting, things were looking grim for the US and Filipino troops. They were almost out of ammunition, their cover was almost blown to shit after who knows how many RPG hits, and there were only five of them left standing.

They would not last another ten seconds and the ILF knew that but instead of finishing them and calling it a day, they stopped.

"The hell are they stopping for?" SFC Moran panted, the side of his head bleeding when a bullet grazed the side of his head.

"Fuck knows." SGT Rawlins grunted out with his right hand wrapped in bandage. He had lost his thumb after someone got lucky and managed to shoot it off. There was no getting his thumb back on – not after this long – but that did not stop him from helping a soldier who had lost one of his eyes from shrapnel.

SGT Westbrook said nothing as he surveyed the scene. Something was not right here; why did they stop? The Americans were all but done for and all the ILF had to do was deliver the killing blow…but they did not. Why?

Perhaps they wanted to offer the Americans and Filipinos a chance to surrender? That was not happening; they knew what the ILF does to its prisoners – especially for someone like Kaarim. The answer to that question was a resounding no because for all the Americans and Filipinos' wounded and dead, they doled out more punishment to the enemy so the chances of them being taken alive was incredibly slim.

Perhaps they were regrouping for one last to take them out? Likely but they know enough that the allied troops had called in reinforcements and would be here in minutes so they would have bugged by now. So why would the ILF stick around?

SGT Westbrook got his answer when he saw Kaarim al-Abdelnour himself walking to middle of the battlefield followed by a few of his men as they dragged a man, woman, and child with them – all of them begging and screaming for their release.

"Putang ina." _**("Son of a bitch.")**_ CAPT Ferrer said.

"Kaarim." The Sergeant grunted. "Command, this is 5211 Bravo. Positive ID on Target: Scorcher. I repeat: PID on Kaarim al-Abdelnour and he has a family of three with him. Where the hell is our reinforcements?"

"Bravo, roger. Reinforcements are en route – ETA: five minutes. /Break/. Do you have a shot at him?"

"Goddammit, we'll be hamburgers in two seconds." A Corporal cursed.

SGT Westbrook ground his teeth but did not change his expression. He saw Kaarim kneel down and place the girl in front of him. "Standby." It pissed the Sergeant off because the rules of engagement stated that they were not to shoot civilians but he would play with the cards he has been dealt.

"They'll kill them if you do take out Kaarim, bro." SFC Moran said.

SSG Rawlins pounded his fist on the wall. "They're going to die either way, Moran…we can't do jack shit about it. You do what you got to do, man."

What happened in Sabaa Al-Bour had affected him badly but he understood that it was either the kid or his guys. It was a hard choice to make but SGT Westbrook did what he had to do. Now, he was faced with another difficult choice that he did not want to make.

Take the shot or not to – either way, the family dies. The Sergeant did not have a problem killing the enemy – there was no joy in it, it was just strict professionalism and the commitment to finish the mission. Being forced to kill civilians, however, was something he did not want to do…but what else could he do here?

All of them knows what Kaarim intends to do and though it pains him to do it, the Sergeant would rather shoot through the girl now and give her a quick death. It maybe cruel, it maybe heartless, but he would doing the kid and her family a favor.

He had seen what Kaarim was capable of and he did not want that to happen to those poor souls but the only thing that he could give them was a quick death. Like SGT Rawlins said, they would die either way and the only question was how they were going to die.

With this in mind, the Sergeant broke cover just enough to aim his weapon on the girl's center mass. Kaarim was right behind her and at this range, a 5.56x45 mm NATO round will punch through her and him. It will be quick, painless, and clean – a fast death. Certainly preferable than the torture that would be sure befall them.

He was about to squeeze the trigger until a bullet struck just millimeters from his face and the Sergeant was forced to duck. "Fuck! They got a sniper out there – everyone keep your heads down." He ordered the men before he contacted command. "Bravo, negative on shot. Sniper's zeroed in on us."

"Roger that. Just sit tight. Command out."

SGT Westbrook let out a frustrated sigh as he and what was left of them resigned themselves to watch what this animal was about to do.

"Americans! Filipinos! Look at what you have done!" Kaarim spread out his arm to emphasize the carnage and destruction wrought from this battle while holding on to the sobbing child with the other. "You say you come in the name of peace and to bring order! But I only see you imposing your Imperialist rule and your heretical beliefs upon my countrymen! You Filipinos! Your country was once a great one! Now, it is nothing more than a mere puppet of the United States who hides behind it like a frightened child and have fallen to its beliefs! For too long you have believed yourselves untouchable but no longer for I and many others like myself have proved otherwise!" His men cheered and fired AK rounds into the air.

CAPT Ferrer's grip on his weapon tightened as he felt anger at his country being mocked but he could not do anything with the risk of being shot.

"Please, Kaarim al-Abdelnour, let my daughter and wife go!" The father cried out. "We did nothing wrong! We did nothing to offend you and your brothers. By Allah's name, I swear we never collaborated with the Americans! For Allah's sake, please don't do this!" He cried and cried but his pleas fell on deaf ears.

"Now you poison our children's mind with your lies! Infecting them with your putrid ideals and false hopes! Blasphemy! ILF will be victorious and will unite the world under Allah to destroy you!" His men cheered again, only louder before he spoke again. "By divine law, a girl under the age of eight is to be educated…I have done all I can to enforce His will upon you, but your mother still teaches you. It seems that I must make an example of you both so that others may learn."

The girl saw the demented grin of Kaarim and tried desperately to get away. "H-Help me! Help me! Help me!" She screamed over and over again before that animal forced him to the ground and pulled out his blow torch.

"Let her be an example you all learn from!" Without hesitation, Kaarim ignited his blow torch and directed it to the girl's eye.

She screamed in pure agony as the torch was burning through her flesh and eye. The same thing was happening to the wife as the father could do nothing but watch in horror.

The screams were heard by the allied troops but they could do nothing but listen to the inhumanity of it all. They bristled in anger at their inability to do anything to help – all but one.

SGT Westbrook sat in silence and unmoving. The screams of agony of the family echoing in his head – being seared into his mind. Those scream would haunt him forever; not because he could not save them…but because he failed to give them a quick death.

The screams lasted for over two agonizing minute before the torch finally burned through their brains – eventually ending their suffering.

Kaarim turned off his torch and looked at the structure the Americans and Filipinos were hiding in. He could hear the sound rotors in the distance so he needed to bug out now. "Let this be another lesson for you! Leave now or later. It matters not for I WILL kill all of you!"

With that, he ordered his men to fire every RPG they had into the apartment building.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: FOB: K33 – HAWIJA**_

 _ **DATE: MARCH 18, 2013**_

 _ **TIME: 16:00:12**_

* * *

Twenty eight hours after the deadly ambush that happened in the Industrial District, SGT Westbrook was leaning on a crutch as he stared at the battlefield crosses of his fallen brothers with a cold expression…but his eyes told a different story.

He could not remember what happened after Kaarim finished his work with that family; all he knew was that he woke up in a hospital bed with a major concussion, seven broken ribs, a broken arm, a snapped collar bone, and a fractured femur. All things considered, SGT Westbrook was lucky to make it out of there in one piece.

The others, however, were not so lucky. Almost the entire Platoon was destroyed with only one survivor named Johnny and ODA 5211 was all but wiped out with the exception of himself, SGT Rawlins, and CPT Summers. SFC Moran died when an RPG went straight through him and SSG Smith died by being crushed under debris. SGT Rawlins had one of his legs blown off and the Captain was in a coma.

As for Alpha Team, only CAPT Ferrer was all that was left of them…but he was in pretty bad shape. From what the Sergeant had heard, the doctors were still fighting to save his life but his chances were slim.

All in all, Kaarim's ambush had cost them dearly – forty six Americans and thirteen Filipinos were killed including a family of three. No doubt the whole world would know about this soon enough and be disgusted by the amount of death and gore that had been shed.

The total death toll was sixty two but they got their share in blood with over one hundred and thirty hostiles killed. A major blow of Kaarim's operations but it would not be enough to stop him. Not by a long shot.

While SGT Westbrook may be a loner in his team, he got along with them pretty well. Hell, he even took part in teasing SFC Moran after he got a fucking vibrator during mail call. It would seem that he had a sister in the Army too but she was in a different part of the country. Every man in the group were relentless in getting under the poor man's skin – SGT Westbrook included.

Alas, almost all of them were gone and that hurt like molten steel being poured down your throat.

It was not exactly the same for the Filipinos but there was still respect – especially since he trained with them. That did not matter now since they were all dead and he was alive; if barely.

However, the slaughter of his team was not the only thing that bothered him.

SGT Westbrook looked up at the sky and let out a low grunt. The other thing that was bothering him was the fact that he almost shot a little girl in order to get to Kaarim. Of course, that did not count because he did not pull the trigger but he made the decision to kill another child to complete the mission.

Looking back, he asked himself what the fuck was he thinking? In Sabaa Al-Bour, the Sergeant did not have a choice in the matter but here, he did and he almost went through with it. Granted that they would have died anyway and he only wanted to give the family a quick and relatively painless death but that did not matter. Whatever excuse SGT Westbrook chose to believe, he still committed to killing a civilian.

However, why was he starting to feel like it was nothing to him?

Was this the thing he was becoming? What CPT Summers warned him about? About getting used to war makes you something else? Was he losing the thing that makes him human? If the Sergeant was honest with himself…deep down he knew he was just acting guilty – to show others that he could feel something when in reality, he could care less about them. He did not know them so why should SGT Westbrook cry for them.

Some would say that if he went through with it, he would be no better than Kaarim. Well, the difference between him and that animal was that one was a rabid dog while the other was more like a necessary evil.

Nevertheless, he was capable of feeling sorrow and loss. He may have had trouble forming friendships here but the guys from his team were considered as such. He maybe ruthless to the enemy and would rather kill them all to save him the headache but that did not mean he was completely heartless. He just copes with loss a little differently than others.

But one thing was sure in his mind. For what Kaarim did to his team, SGT Westbrook demands vengeance.

"Hello, Sergeant." A voice behind him spoke out but SGT Westbrook did not turn around to greet whoever this was.

The man approaching him was a CIA operative that goes by the name of Roth. He was a man in his late thirties with a slightly muscular frame and stood at six feet and one inch. Like ODA 5211, he was tasked to bringing down Kaarim al-Abdelnour. The man had been causing problems for the Agency for a while now and they wanted him buried in the desert.

With permission from his superiors, he has been assisting ODA 5211 in their mission to eliminate Kaarim – feeding them information that proved vital in their hunt. What could Roth say? A Special Forces team had the same mission as he did, why not let them handle the heavy lifting?

Now, however, Kaarim caught them good and over sixty mem were KIA and the rest were critically wounded. Nevertheless, Roth found someone who survived in one piece and was probably the most capable in taking out Target: Scorcher.

He has read SGT Westbrook's records and files, and it was nothing short of impressive considering his young career. The Sergeant was a pure professional – highly trained and extremely good at what he does. He even has a reputation as being one of the best in the group but what got Roth interested was his mindset.

Unknown to CPT Summers, Roth had secretly paid off the psychologist to write up a fabricated assessment of the Sergeant's psychological profile while he kept the original. In the true psychological evaluation of SGT Westbrook, he was diagnosed him with an apparent lack of empathy for others, repressed violent tendencies, and an antisocial demeanor. Or in others words, he was a borderline sociopath.

Contrary to popular belief, psychopaths and sociopaths can join the military provided they have no prior criminal records and can control their impulses. In fact, they actually make great soldiers with how efficient and effective they work, and many members of the Special Operations community have more than a few psychopathic traits to them.

With regard to SGT Westbrook, he may not know it but these traits actually help him in becoming what he is – a man willing to do just about anything to accomplish his mission even if it meant killing a few civilians.

He was a killing machine in the making and all Roth had to do was push him in right direction. For a man like SGT Westbrook, defeat was not an option for him. He either completes his mission or he dies trying – the CIA Operative knows the type. As far as he was concerned, the Sergeant's mission was not over and after what happened to his team, he sure as hell would want revenge.

And Roth had a use for a ruthless and violent killing machine.

"A lot of good men died, I'm not going to lie about that." Roth said as he stood beside the Sergeant looking at the battlefield crosses. "I can see it in your eyes, Sergeant. These men deserved more than what they got but there's nothing more that we can do about that. The only thing you can do…is to finish what your team started. I can help you with that. Work with me and I'll give you everything you-."

"Equipment, a team, and freedom to do what I need to do."

Roth blinked twice before he chuckled. "Done. I look forward to working with you, SGT Westbrook." With that, he walked away. He was already making plans to how he was going to make this work and who knows, maybe the Sergeant can work for him again in the future.

Once the agent was gone, SGT Westbrook was finally alone again. Well, he may have just made a deal with the devil but what that spook spoke the truth. He still had a mission to do and while his team was gone, the Sergeant was still in play.

He understands now…for all the world's beauty, it can also be a pretty fucked up place to live in. The Earth shits out monsters everyday…and now, it just made another one.

In order to fight someone like Kaarim, SGT Westbrook needed to become even more than what he already was. In order to win, he needed to become what the Captain warned him about. An efficient and cold blooded killing machine that will stop at nothing until the enemy has been completely destroyed – both in body and spirit.

To do that, he needed to close off his heart and soul. He needed a clear mind and his conscience – no matter how small – would only hinder him in his mission. In order to succeed, he needed to put his heart and soul behind a glacier's worth of…

Frost.

Unknown to everyone, this day marked the beginning of one of the deadliest and most feared soldier in US Military history…and his reign of terror that followed.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: ALNUS HILL – MAIN OPERATING BASE: TEXAS PRESS**_

 _ **DATE: KOSHA 07, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 08:57:21**_

* * *

Twelve days after the US invasion first set foot on Falmart, they immediately set to work on building their base of operations dubbed Texas Press, and an airfield. Engineers and machines work around the clock to get the base up and running as soon as humanly possible.

Of course, first priority was to complete the defensive measures of the base. When all it was said and done, they were still in the middle of enemy territory – in an active warzone. However, thanks to being situated on top of a hill and the wide open fields, the Americans could see an attack from miles away – a vital tactical advantage.

Patrols sent out to survey the area further out reported no enemy presence in the vicinity but they would all breathe a bit better if the defensive emplacements were complete. Thankfully, they were completed three days ago so the engineers could focus on the other essential components of the base such as the troop barracks, ammo and supply dumps, the command center, vehicle housings and garages, the airfield and air craft hangars, power stations etc.

With the engineers working 24/7, the overall construction of the base would be complete in am estimated five to six weeks. While the engineers worked their magic, they were guarded by the two battalions from both the 30th Infantry Division and the 2nd Marine Division; they were reinforced by dozens of tanks and armored vehicles from the 2nd Cavalry Division and the 2nd Tank Battalion.

Although the base was not quite completed, it did not mean that operations could not commence. The airfield was a bit a ways from being called complete, LTG Pearce wanted drones in the sky as soon as possible to gather intelligence. So, while the airfield was not suited for manned aircraft just yet, they could now launch drones for long range reconnaissance just after seven days after the invasion.

After all, drones do not need that much runway to take off and asphalt was optional. As an added bonus, they already have a few Black Hawk, Chinooks, and Apaches fit for duty.

With drones in the air, the US now had a detailed map of the theater of war and all the principles involved corroborating with the intel they gathered from Count Formal and his surviving men. There have been talks of deploying the new TacSat-10A Seraphus satellite, a highly advanced aircraft launched reconnaissance and communications satellite, but nothing was confirmed as of yet.

Somewhere in a secured location within Texas Press, the members of Task Force Nemesis were about to be briefed on their mission directives.

The operators of Task Force 117 were assembled and waited to be briefed of what they were going to do by their commanders, COL Summers and MAJ Westbrook. As far as they were concerned, the members of Task Force Nemesis were as ready as they were ever going to be.

1LT Wilson was sitting in the middle of the third row of seats with a pad of paper and a pencil. He chuckled in amusement, feeling like he was back in grade school but he understood that this was extremely serious. Soon enough, they were going out there to do their dangerous jobs.

Moments later, the lights of the room dimmed and the screen in front of them glowed to life. In front of them, COL Summers and MAJ Westbrook walked into the room and all the operators stood at attention.

"At ease." The Colonel said and they relaxed before taking their seats. "Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get this squared away." With that, he nodded for the mission briefing to commence and the screen showed a detailed map of their area of operations. "Thanks to overhead drone recon, we've got a clear picture of the surrounding areas." COL Summers gave them a moment to absorb the map in detail. "Now, I assume all of you have thoroughly studied the map in detail so we'll skip to the important part."

With a click of the remote, certain parts of the map were highlighted with different colors and markings that indicated important points of interest. "First and foremost, drone recon detected a small village some eighty clicks to the East. Our informant says the folks there are harmless but he did say that there is a mage operating in the area by the name of Cato El Altestan." He could that most were interested but a little bit nervous. "However, he's reportedly an amicable person and can be reasoned with. If we can gain his trust, he'd be an asset once we get to Rondel. Speaking of Rondel, it is imperative that we capture that city with no bloodshed. Command doesn't want to us destroy that hub of knowledge."

The operators nodded in understanding as they wrote the important details down of their papers before the Colonel pointed to the patch of forestry a few kilometers further East from the village. "A thermal sweep of the Koan forest indicated a high concertation of signatures within this area." He highlighted the North Western section of the forest. "Closer inspection showed that it's some kind of settlement and analysis indicated that this is an Oflai – or Wood Elf – village."

1LT Wilson perked up at that and wrote it down on his pad. He hoped he was part of the unit assigned to meet with the Oflai because he so wanted to see a real life elf! Hell, he might get luck and hook up with one fine elf woman but he kept those thoughts to himself.

"They're nomadic and want no trouble which is just fine for us, but we can use them." COL Summers explained. "Count Formal said that the Oflai know the land like the back of their hands; not to mention exceptional scouts. If we can gain their trust, they could help us in location slave hubs or routes – anything the Saderans could be using to hold our civvies."

COL Summers could see some slight apprehension in their eyes but he could understand that. By all intents and purposes, the US could handle the search for those slave hubs with no problems but an extra pair of eyes would be welcome. The Oflai are renowned for their ability to remain undetected, their use of nature magic, and would be a great help. Plus, from a strategic standpoint, having friendly relations with one of the races here could prove beneficial down the road. Though establishing relations was not a priority, it was out of necessity.

Humming, 1LT Wilson wrote it down on his pad. Establishing a working relationship with an indigenous population was right up the Green Beret's alley. This also reminded him of those RPG quests he had to do to earn people's trust.

Deciding to move on, COL Summers turned their attention to Italica. "Seeing as we have the Count on our side, it stands that Italica will be friendly once we get him back into power and hopefully, the vassal kingdoms as well." To emphasize that, he highlighted the lesser kingdoms. "As we speak, Count Formal's already drafting letters for his regent and the kings to inform them that he's alive and meet with us in negotiations. If things go right, we won't have to deal with the lesser kingdoms…but in the off chance that we have to, we'll be ready."

The members of Task Force Nemesis nodded in satisfaction. If things went right, then they would only worry about the Saderans. Fewer enemies to deal with are always good news to hear.

"At the Northern tip of the Blue Sea is the port city of Proptor, the Saderan's main naval base." COL Summers highlighted the city just South of the Imperial capital. "Overhead recon's showing that it's crawling with their Legions, and ships are transporting troops and supplies here." He indicated to a coastal city approximately eight hundred kilometers South East of our position. "Looks like they're planning a pincer movement – hoping a half of troops down there would meet up with the vassals' armies from the South while the other half hits us from the North. Fortunately, any enemy formation is weeks away from being labeled a considerable threat and the Air Force have plans for them. Now, the prize."

The map zoomed into Sadera, the Imperial capital. "Objective Silver, the place where this shit storm started and home to the fuck we want, Molt Sol Augustus. Once we capture both, the Saderan government and chain of command will collapse. But before we do that, we have to trap them first." He then indicated the city of Telta on the map. "You all know the plan: Air Force softens them up then the Army and Marines run what's left down all the way to Telta in order to trap the Capital. This isn't a competition but whoever gets to Telta first, wins." Some of the operators chuckled in amusement before the Colonel handed the reigns to MAJ Westbrook.

"Same for the Army and Marines, we'll divide our attention on the two AO's. Relentless will take the North while Leviathan has the East all the way to the Blue Sea and Tornado will handle the South. Oracle, the General wants the faces of the bastard's were after. I want your best guys to infiltrate Objective Silver and get it done."

All team leaders nodded their heads as they wrote down all the details to review later before MAJ Westbrook continued. "Each Platoon will divide itself into smaller teams of six. I'll lead a team and head West and shadow the Western Legions – if necessary, mark them for an air strike. A second team will head for Koda Village and make contact with Cato El Altestan." He highlighted the village on the map. "Count Formal says he's friendly but don't take any chances. We don't have an exact fix on him so you'll have to ask around. If he can cooperate with us, he'll be vital for our objective in Rondel."

MAJ Westbrook saw his Task Force nodding in understanding before he moved on. "The third team will be tasked in shadowing the three legions moving in on us. Latest aerial surveillance indicated that they're only three days march from reaching Italica here." He pointed at a point of Route 21 approximately seventy kilometers West of Italica. "Your objective is to observe them without being detected – if possible, infiltrate the city and ascertain the status of it."

When they all understood, Major Westbrook continued. "The fourth team will scout the Dumas Pass." To emphasize, he highlighted it on the map that showed a narrow path leading through the Dumas Mountain Range and the three settlements it encompasses. "On either side and at the middle of the pass are three settlements – Carcalet to West, Holmfirth to the center, and Aberdyfi to the Eastern end of the pass. Unless command wants us to go around the Mountain Range, this is the only way to the capital for the Army's main push. Your objective is to scout the pass and these villages, and neutralize any threat you may encounter."

With the men all nodding and writing the details down on their pads, MAJ Westbrook shifted the map to Leviathan's area of operations. "The Marines will soon break out and take the coastal town of Doveport here." He pointed at a town three hundred kilometers to the South of Objective Silver on the Western bank. "Take extreme caution as Doveport's the landing site of the Saderan Army's amphibious landings. Once they take it, it'll be the staging ground for their assault on the three port cities on the Eastern bank – Carran, Orves, and Haerndean. These port cities are controlled by noble families – the Auspex, Capretta and Vestorius, respectively. According to Count Formal, these families have a sizeable force of soldiers and retainers, and their homes are well fortified." To emphasize, he displayed some detailed and thermal photographs of the cities showing their citadels and . "We capture those families and their cities; we'll own the Blue Sea. I want teams to verify all the principles in those sites in preparation for the Marines' push."

With the members of Leviathan understanding their goals, the Major moved on to Tornado. He refocused the map to the Southern sector of their theater of war. "Even though the Count has given us his word that he can convince the vassal states to enter negotiations with us, we're not going to take that chance." With that, he highlighted the two possible routes that the vassal armies could use to travel North towards the Hill. "They can use two routes to get here: the Jiolm Passage which is situated to the West of the Tuba Mountains and intersects with Route 21 at a village West of Italica, and the Stratow Path to the East of the mountains and comes straight at us." MAJ Westbrook could see the men were beginning to understand the implications of such a thing as they wrote it down. "Two teams will be stationed on a village of the two roads while the rest gets eyes on the vassal armies. Intelligence reports that they're massing already. Current estimates show that they're already over fifty thousand of them."

He then revealed the latest aerial photographs of the vassal states and the members of Task Force 117 could see large concentrations of soldiers all around; it was an impressive sight really. "Hopefully, we won't have to fight them but just in case, command has targeted their key command and control centers if they get any bright ideas." The Major said before he cleared his throat. "Our objectives are as follows: recon on enemy locations and movements, kill or capture high value targets, search and rescue of any US civilian we can find, sabotage, and if necessary, search and destroy. Any questions?"

1LT Ramirez raised his hand and the Major nodded at him. "Sir, what're the rules of engagement and what support packages are we operating?"

"We take no prisoners. We're sending them a clear message." The ice cold tone in the Major's voice said it all – any hostile that dared to get in their way dies. "As far as support goes, we'll be given limited resupply drops, artillery, air and drone strike packages, and Ranger QRFs to capture key sites if there are any. In addition, ODA teams will be inserted to make contact with the indigenous tribes to see if they can support us or to remain neutral if not." 1LT Ramirez nodded once satisfied with the answer and wrote it down on his paper. "Any more questions?"

"Sir." A Pararescuemen, SFC Joseph Whitby, raised his hand and MAJ Westbrook nodded at him. "Do we have anything on where they're keeping the hostages?"

The Major and COL Summers looked at each other before turning back to their men. "Intelligence believes that most of them are holed up in the capital but we have to assume that some of them have been taken somewhere else." The Colonel said. "Currently, we haven't found a location but the General's already tasked the Activity to hunt down any and all leads. Once they have, you boys'll get first dibs. Anything else?"

"Sir, our reports say that the Saderans enslaved three races, right?" A Green Beret, SGT Ellis Wright, asked. "Some managed to escape to Formal lands. Chances are, they hate the Saderans a hell of a lot more than we do. Can we use that to our advantage, sir?"

It was actually a good question – one that the top brass had been considering for some time now. "Plans are in motion for that one." COL Summers said. "Once we bring Count Formal back to power, he has agreed to bring us the leaders of the three races to talk. They'll want payback but whether or not they'll be allowed to fight with us is still up for debate. But in the event that they are and we play it right, we'll gain significant tactical and strategic advantages. Any more questions?"

When everyone was silent, MAJ Westbrook decided to add a few things. "Make no mistake. We may be more advanced but the Saderans outnumber us almost twenty to one and they know the terrain better than any of us. Don't underestimate their capabilities because they're 'primitive'. And another thing – until the base is up and running, we'll be the only unit operation in this war. Meaning we're effectively on our own. Once we're on the ground, no one's our friend. I don't need to remind you that capture isn't an option for any of us."

One of the officers spoke up. "We've all seen the history books and the intel about how prisoners are treated in ancient times." All of the operators nodded. "Those fucking animals will make you suffer."

"I don't know about you guys but if shit goes South, I'm dying with my weapon in my hands." A Force Recon Marine said and the others wholeheartedly agreed.

"Oorah, bro."

"As am I."

"Amen."

"Hear, hear."

Normally, MAJ Westbrook would have disciplined them but he decided to let this one slide for now. "To blend in with the populace, all operatives are to wear clothes similar to the people here – standard load out. I hope you're all good with your swords and archery. Wheels up in three days at 2300 hours. Be ready by then – dismissed."

With the briefing over, Task Force Nemesis began to file out of the room while COL Summers and MAJ Westbrook stayed behind to discuss a few things. Unknown to them, 1LT Wilson stayed behind to in order to talk to the Colonel.

For a few minutes, he could hear nothing but soft mumbling from their side but he did not listen to it as it was not his place to know. He leaned against a wall to wait but just as he was about to relax, the doors opened and out came COL Summers.

1LT Wilson cleared his throat and saluted. "Uh, COL Summers, sir. I was wondering if we could talk if you have a minute?"

COL Summers looked at him with a critical eye. He has read about 1LT Wilson – Green Beret, Engineer Sergeant, two deployments in Africa, and critically injured during an ambush that almost cost him his eyes before being transferred to the 1st Special Forces Group.

Not to mention that official Hero of New York and awarded the Medal of Honor for his extraordinary bravery beyond the call of duty. Well, in crises such as this, the people needed heroes to look up to just like what happened in 9/11 and when that nuke exploded in 2011.

Even though the police and 1LT Wilson played major parts in the defense, they would not have been as effective if it were not for the quick reaction of MAJ Westbrook. If it was not for him, a lot more people would have been lost and more damage to the city would have been caused.

Even though he was part of a clandestine unit, Top Brass wanted to give him an award for his performance but the Major refused to be part of a big ceremony. First and foremost, he was a part of Delta Force – a highly secretive unit and if he were to he presented in front of a crowd like that, he would break one of the cardinal rules of the SOF community.

No public exposure whatsoever.

To the Colonel, that was just MAJ Westbrook fancily saying that he was shy and give the credit to someone else…but he would never admit that to anyone, even himself.

Seeing no harm in talking to him, COL Summers nodded. "Walk with me." With that, the two men walked out of there. "So what do you want to talk about, Lieutenant?"

"Um, you served with the Major for a long time and out of anyone here, you probably know him the most. What can you tell me about the man. Sir."

The Colonel looked at him for a several seconds before sighing. "I've known him for over twenty years. I can tell you right now that if there ever was a candidate for the most dangerous man in the world, he'd be it."

1LT Wilson nodded. "I can agree to that." He rubbed his ribs at the memory. "But no one starts out like that, right? Something happened during Operation: Ocean Dust that made him the way he is."

Operation: Ocean Dust was a name the Colonel would like to forget for it was the op that wiped out his ODA team, put him into a coma, and drove one of them into a killing machine.

"…You could say that. Our target was Kaarim al-Abdelnour, one evil motherfucker and the principal enforcer of the ILF. He torched people alive for fun, including our own. He ambushed us and nearly wiped us out but he didn't. Instead, he gave us a front row seat while he used a blow torch on a family right in front of us. After that, RPGs slammed into the building and everything went black."

"Yeah…" 1LT Wilson mumbled, remembering the news articles about that particular massacre. "You were out of action and MAJ Westbrook took months to recuperate and went right after them all. He almost wiped them out too." The way he read the reports, he almost felt like he was reading a Punisher comic book.

COL Summers sighed. "You're only half right, Lieutenant. That narrative's fabricated." At the questioning look he was given, he continued. "What happened there's not what it seems, Wilson. What Westbrook did to them was so bad that we had to water the details down and that's where he earned his nicknames: Almawt Sharir and Nakir."

1LT Wilson already knew what the former meant and the mere mention of it struck fear into the hearts of every man, woman, and child in the Middle East. However, he did not know what the latter meant. "What does Nakir mean, sir?"

COL Summers looked at him. "Nakir is one of the angels in Islam who judge the dead whether they should go to Jannah or Jahannam. Nakir means the Denier. The ILF gave him the name because he denies them life and punishes them before death."

Yup, that definitely sounds like something from a Punisher comic. "…What happened after that, sir?"

"After the whole thing, Delta Force recruited him and the rest is all classified information. Information that's way above your pay grade." COL Summers said. He suspected that the CIA had a hand in MAJ Westbrook's recruitment into the clandestine unit but he could never prove it.

Well, that was true enough. JSOC kept a really tight lid on the exact details of their operations and for someone who was quite possibly, their most effective and efficient man, they would want to keep everything about him in a ten foot thick steel vault.

However, 1LT Wilson remembered something. "Sir, from what little info JSOC does give, Delta Force operates in Iraq. The ILF's main stronghold in the North in the caves of the Sinjar Mountains. Says they were thousands of them hiding out there." 1LT Wilson said as they stood outside the Colonel's office. "A battle there would've been a bloodbath for years but the report says that they all bugged out in less than a month. You think the Major had a hand in that, sir?"

"Son." COL Summers said in a neutral voice before he turned to 1LT Wilson and looked at him dead in the eye. "What the report says is what the report says. They're dead and gone; no use in bringing up dead ghosts. If I were you, I'd stop digging before you get into some serious shit. Trust me; you'll sleep better at night. Get back to your team and ready up for your op." Not waiting for a reply, the COL entered his office and closed the door.

1LT Wilson stood there for a second before sighing. He just wanted to get some insight on his CO and who better to do that than the Colonel. He recruited and trained MAJ Westbrook in the Green Berets and served with in the same ODA together.

Well, he did not get any answers from his questions but he did get what he was after. From what COL Summers told him, he was able to piece together that MAJ Westbrook was one of – if not – the most dangerous man alive and had committed some pretty gruesome shit. Shit that would make the weak puke their guts all over the floor and gouge their eyes out.

1LT Wilson had half a mind to keep digging out of curiosity but decided against it. First of all, he was not a fucking reporter and if he even if he was, he was going up against JSOC and the CIA. He had seen the movies – anyone that got a little too invested in their business usually…disappeared.

He might be good but he was not going to take that chance. He likes his life thank you very much.

Shrugging his shoulders, 1LT Wilson walked back to the barracks while whistling a soft tune. He had shit to do and he needed to do them fast.

However, unknown to him and the Colonel, leaning behind a corner was MAJ Westbrook. Although he did not show it, he was not happy at being reminded of the most heinous crime he has ever done.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: FALMART – WESTERN SECTOR**_

 _ **DATE: KOSHA 10, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 24:12:49**_

* * *

Flying low and fast through the darkness, a lone MH-60M Black Hawk was en route carrying six members of Task Force Nemesis under the command of Frost for a high risk rescue operation. Inside the cabin, the operators sat in silence as they waited for the light to turn green.

Just under forty hours ago, the ISA and drone recon have spotted what appeared to be a slave caravan moving along Route: 21 and approaching a small village approximately two hundred and thirty kilometers West of Italica. Further observation indicated that they had stopped at that village to rest up before moving on.

When this became known to LTG Pearce, he knew that this was an opportunity that he could not waste and he immediately ordered Task Force 117 to hit it and bring back any American hostages and/or intel they could find. He also gave Frost complete freedom to persecute the situation by any means he saw fit.

While the rest of Task Force Nemesis was en route to their respective objectives, Frost took it upon himself to lead the rescue operation before moving on to their real objective. His men knew the score and he trusted them to accomplish their jobs while he does this.

Frost was sitting silently by the door, rechecking his gear and reviewing the plan in his head. As he said before, their load out was relatively light and they wore clothing that was similar to those of the natives. Even if they carried a standard load out, they carried advanced equipment.

In order to reduce overall weight and maximize mobility, Task Force 117 has been outfitted with the new Non-Newtonian Synthetic System, a newly developed type of liquid armor designed to replace the conventional body armors of the Armed Forces. They were also given the latest version of the Data Wrist Display, a wrist mounted computer capable of a multitude of tasks. They were staples of US Special Operations Forces.

In addition to the PQ-1 Spook drone, they were also given Persistent Close Air Support capabilities allowing them to call in air and artillery support far more accurately and less radio traffic than conventional means.

Though the NSS armor was a bit…funny to wear at first, Frost quickly got the hang of it. He wore clothing that greatly resembled what the average civilian here would wear with added modification to accommodate his gear and weaponry as well a tattered hood that hid his mask and tactical goggles.

The village was small and they assumed was used by travelers and traders for pit stops. Intelligence reported that it was home to about a hundred civilians and guarded by local militia, and their objectives were at the center of town somewhere.

The plan was simple: they would be inserted by air three clicks from the town and hike the rest of the way there, recon the area with the Spook drone and find those slaves and slavers, infiltrate the village, and free the slaves and kill the slavers after they gave the Americans the intel they want.

While two men infiltrate the village and locate slaves and the slavers, another will search for the leader. The rest would secure a perimeter and make sure no one escapes. If there were American hostages there, they were to be sent home as soon as possible. If not, then no harm and no foul – they would find them soon enough be they still alive or corpses.

If they do this right then there should be no civilians casualties and minimal loss of life on both sides – which was the goal here. As far as the rest of this world was concerned, the Saderan's powerful enemy was not yet here and the US would like to keep it that way until the time was right.

Subtlety was key here and for all intents and purposes, they were on their own on this one.

"One minute to LZ." The pilot notified the Frost and he acknowledged.

"One minute. Ready up." He said to his men as they policed their equipment. When they were sure that everything was all set, they waited for the bird to touch down so they can get on with it.

The Black Hawk reached its destination and pitched back. "Man on the door, standby." The pilot said as the chopper made its descent to land. "Green light! Go, go, go!" He said once the bird was on the ground.

Instantly, two operators opened the doors and they all filed out of the bird to secure a perimeter. Once they were safely on the deck, the Black Hawk began its ascent and bugging out of there.

"Nightmare, this is Lima 5. We are RTB. Falcon will be on station for exfil in one hour."

Frost watched as they Black Hawk disappeared into the darkness as his men rallied on him. "Roger that, Lima 5." He said before contacted command. "Warlord, this is Nightmare Actual. Boots on the ground – we're moving to objective. Over."

"Warlord copies all, Nightmare. Check back with me once you've reached the village."

"Roget that. Nightmare, out." He turned his attention to his team and pulled out the digital map. "Our objective's 3.2 clicks North of here. Let's move." With that, they began their trek to the village.

* * *

The trek took them a little over twenty minutes to complete as they had to move carefully through the grasslands but they made it. Once the village was in sight, Frost ordered his men to hold position behind some trees and prepare themselves.

"Warlord, we've reached the village. Request permission to initiate mission. Over."

"Nightmare Actual, this is Warlord. Confirmed – team, you have the green light. Mission is a go."

"Understood." With confirmation from command that the operation is a go, Frost ordered two two-man teams lead by 1LT Wilson and SFC Mills to cut off the East and Western road, respectively while the Delta Operative moves to a small ridge overlooking the village and conduct some reconnaissance together with SFC Collier.

Barely peeking through the vegetation, the Major took out his binoculars with thermal and night vision enhancements. With night vision on, the village looked quiet and asleep with a few fires here and there. However, after activating the thermals, he could see there were still quite a number of people moving around. Whether they were civilians of guards, he could not tell but this would complicate things a little.

Frost could see heat signatures from every hut but he was looking for a high concentration of them. From his own world in ancient times, most slaves were transported in caravans – basically wheeled cages – and kept in there until they arrive at their destination. He might be wrong on that one but he was willing to bet on it.

True enough, he spotted a high concentration of heat signatures in some kind of storehouse or something to the South Western end of the village. Focusing on that structure, he could clearly see humanoid figures bunched up in two carts with five armed men guarding them.

Unless people here had a fetish for sleeping in cold, damp and cramped spaces, those are the ones they were after.

"Sir, drone's ready and in the skies." SFC Collier informed him – perfect timing. "Optimal altitude reached. Switching control over to you."

Frost put away his binoculars and took control of the Spook drone with his DWD. He guided the drone over the village and he got a clear overhead view of the area. He highlighted all the hostiles red and the objective structure blue, and prepared to relay the data to his troops. "Nightmare Actual to all units. Standby for data sync."

"Copy that." He heard his men acknowledge before he sent the battle data to their DWD.

"Slaves are located at this storehouse – marked blue. Four hostiles present." Frost said. "Nightmare 2 and 6, secure it and find the location of their boss if they have one. I'll infiltrate alone and handle him. The rest of you stay on overwatch – anyone who tries to leave or enter the village, I want to know about it. Confirm?"

There was a chorus of acknowledgement from his guys and Frost nodded. "Move in."

* * *

It took him a few minutes to reach the outskirts of the village but 1LT Wilson made it and he hid under a patch of shrubbery. He could see his entry point – a small alley to his ten o'clock and there was no patrol anywhere near him as indicated by the drone.

Looking at the map on his DWD, he could see that their objective was about eighty meters to the South West. That was where he needed to go and rendezvous with Nightmare 6, and rescue their people if there are any, and locate any other possible locations and routes used by the slave trade.

The last part would be handled by the Major and God help whoever he was after.

1LT Wilson activated his heat beat sensor on his weapon and he could see a lot of red dots lighting up from those buildings while he and his teammates registered as blue dots. They were probably civilians just sleeping in their beds and/or the occasional stray animals.

"Nightmare 2, I'm at the perimeter of the village. No patrols in sight, moving in. Over."

"Roger that, 2. See you at the RV. 6, out."

Rising from his cover, 1LT Wilson made his way to the alley while keeping a close eye on his heartbeat sensor. He was careful not to make any noise on his approach and kept an eye out for anything that could give away his position.

When he reached the alley, he stopped at the edge of it and leaned just a little bit to see if someone or something was in there. Well, aside from a few piles of stinking trash and crap, there seems to be no one in here so his entry point was clear.

Letting out a breath, 1LT Wilson entered the alley. He stuck to the walls and watched the windows and doors carefully. He could see a few stray cats rummaging around in the garbage but they mostly ignored him and him they.

He was almost out of the alley when he his heartbeat sensor alerted him that a group was heading towards him from his right flank. Cursing silently, he moved back into the alley and his behind some crates in the shadows.

As the group draws near, 1LT Wilson's heartbeat sensor sped up and he readied his weapon just in case. The group finally made themselves known as six armed men. They were probably the village's patrols or something.

Regardless, the Green Beret waited for them to pass and when they did, he moved to the alley's exit. Looking to the left, he could see the group pulling away from his position so he continued on mission.

* * *

Several minutes later, 1LT Wilson made it to the objective building. He had to do a decent amount of hiding and evading but it was nothing he could not handle. Besides, it was like a game of hide n seek.

Taking position to the Southern section of the structure near the entrance, he could smell shit and horses coming from it – it was definitely some kind of stable – but most importantly, he could hear soft sobbing.

This was the building all right.

"Nightmare 6, this is 2. I'm at the target building – South side. Interrogative: what's your current position?" 1LT Wilson asked.

"Copy that. I'm coming in – you should see my approach from your eleven o'clock. Over."

Referring to his DWD, 1LT Wilson could see a friendly coming towards his position from his eleven o'clock. Looking up, he saw a figure coming at him – it was SFC Mills.

"Good to see you, bro." SFC Mills said. "You ready?"

1LT Wilson nodded. "Yeah, thermals on." He ordered as he and SFC Wilson put on their thermal goggles and activated them. "Nightmare Actual, 2 and 6 are breaching the target building.

"Roger that, good hunting."

1LT Wilson slowly opened the door, and he and SFC Mills moved in – they were careful not to startle the horses. Thanks to their thermal goggles and heartbeat sensors, they identified the exact locations of their targets.

Three appeared to be sleeping in some makeshift bunks in the upper level while two stood guard over the slaves. This should be easy as all hell.

"Let's take the three out first before them." 1LT Wilson said and SFC Mills nodded before they silently climbed up the stairs as to not alert the two below.

After some maneuvering, they reached their destination. The three guards were sleeping in hammocks and the two soldiers slowly crept towards them. 1LT Wilson motioned to SFC Mills to take care of the one on the right while he handled the other two.

Taking out his knife, 1LT Wilson covered the guard's mouth and stabbed him through the throat all the way to the hilt and violently twisted the blade. This act destroyed the neck and severed the brain stem; the guard was not even able to scream when he died

Taking a life was something 1LT Wilson never enjoyed but it was necessary in his line of work. Pulling out his knife, he removed his hand from the guard's mouth and proceeded to the last one. Casting a glance to his back, he saw SFC Mills covering their rear while he finishes the job.

Repeating what he did before, he killed the last guard and returned to SFC Mills' side. From above, they could see the situation: two guards were sitting on crates by a small fire and behind them were three caravans of slaves.

From their position, it would have been a breeze to just snipe them but their orders were to extract any intel from them so they needed at least one alive. Not to mention that suppressors did not work like what Hollywood portrays them to be so their firearms were out.

The only option left was up close and personal.

* * *

" _I hate getting first watch."_ A guard yawned tiredly as he leaned on his spear. _"While we sit here watching the merchandise, those three fucker sleep. Especially that fat cocksucker who's probably cozy in a warm bed in the inn with some poor wench."_

" _Careful, Emir."_ Another guard placated. _"You wouldn't want them to hear you say that."_

" _Fuck what they hear, Rasul."_ Emir said as he spat on the ground. _"You know, maybe we should take these slaves for ourselves. Keep a few of the young and beautiful ones for ourselves and sell the rest. We'd make a profit and stay satisfied everyday."_

Rasul looked at him _"Are you insane? Remember who hired us, Emir. These are the products of Tasos Ve Stavrik, one of the heads of the Merchant's Guild and a personal friend to the Crown Prince. One does not steal from a man like him and live a long happy life."_

Emir shrugged tiredly. _"Yeah, well…who cares, anyway. This is just me talking tired is all."_ That and he was not about to steal from a man who could make his life as if he were in suffering in the pits of the Underworld.

" _Just as long as you keep those thoughts as they are – thoughts."_ Rasul said before he scratched his eyes to get the tiredness out of them. _"And fear not. Our shift is nearly over then we can get some sleep."_

" _Thank the gods."_

While the two teetered between falling asleep and staying awake, they did not notice two shadowy figures slowly creeping up to them from behind until it was too late.

A pair of arms forcibly wrapped around Emir's throat and covered his mouth – this caused him to fully wake up and struggle but he was taken down. He struggled with all his strength but whoever had him was strong.

He looked at his front and saw Rasul lying motionless in a pool of his own blood as an assassin pulled his knife out of his throat. The commotion startled the slaves and some of the horses awake and the assassin tried to calm them down and stay quiet with little effect.

Emir could feel his heart pounding a minute – whoever these men are, they must want the slaves for themselves and that means that he will also die. Where were the others?! Why are they still sleeping unless…

They are all dead.

He tried to fight out of this but he stopped when the sharp end of a knife was pressed upon his neck.

" _Stay quiet. I'm going to ask you some questions. Depending how you answer them, I might let you live. Nod if you understand."_ Emir heard the assassin speak in somewhat broken Falmartian but he understood enough so he shakily nodded his head.

" _Good, are these all the slaves?"_ He nodded again.

" _Are you all that's left of your group?"_ Emir hesitated before shaking his head in the negative.

" _How many more?"_ Emir tried to move his hand but the assassin's grip tightened around his neck and he froze in fear. Apparently realizing his intentions, the assassin loosened up so he could raise one finger.

" _Is he the leader?"_ When he nodded, the assassin grunted. _"I'm going to let your mouth go and you will tell me where. If you so much as say a word I don't like, I'll open your throat up all over the floor. Do you understand?"_ To emphasize his point, he drove the blade deeper into Emir's skinwhich forced him to comply. _"All right."_

The assassin's hold on his mouth was removed and Emir could breathe in and out to calm his nerves. He considered his options – either he screams out for help, alert the guards and most likely die, or cooperate with the assassin and possibly live.

Well, he chooses life. After all, he was not getting paid enough to deal with deadly assassins like these fucks. Let them deal with Tasos if they want to.

" _H-He's in an inn to the North side of the village - his name is Iurie. If you want, I can-"_ Before Emir could finish his sentence, his mouth was clamped shut again and the knife being buried in his neck. He tried to scream and fight with everything he had left in him but one quick twist of the blade and his struggles ceased.

* * *

1LT Wilson gently laid the body of the guard down and wiped the blood from his blade and sheathed it back to his belt. Well, at least they got a location of this group's leader now. Better to inform the command and relay the message to the Major.

"Warlord, this is Nightmare 2 and 6. Relay to Nightmare Actual: we've secured the caravans and got a location of their leader – Iurie. He's in an inn in the North side of the village. Over."

"Solid copy, 2. Good work – will relay. Interrogative: are there American in those cages?"

"Standby." 1LT Wilson got off his comms and turned to SFC Mills who finally managed to calm down the poor bastards. "Mills, any of our people in there?"

SFC Mills turned to him after talking to one of the slaves and sighed. "Sorry, bro. No Americans here."

"Dammit." The Green Beret cursed before turning back to his comms. "Sitrep as follows: no chicks in the cages. I repeat: there are no Americans here. Over."

"Roger that, Nightmare 2. Advise you to pull out to the extraction point now."

1LT Wilson nodded before he turned to the slaves who were looking at him with fear and a little bit of hope in their eyes. "Affirmative. Sir, what about the slaves?"

"Your call, 2. Warlord, out."

1LT Wilson nodded as he turned to SFC Mills. "All right, let's cut them loose and get the fuck out of here." He said before they walked to the caravans.

* * *

Over twenty minutes have passed since the three soldiers infiltrated the village and things, so far, were going smoothly. Frost was slowly working his way to the North side of the village to get to his objective.

Warlord had relayed to him that Nightmare 2 and 6 have succeeded in securing the caravans. Unfortunately, there were no American hostages in there but they caught a break. This little outfit's leader, a man named Iurie, was sleeping his ass off in a nearby inn.

Even if their main objective was not accomplished, they could still get information from that piece of shit.

The last he heard from 1LT Wilson, he and SFC Mills were in the process of leading the captives out of town. Frost would have preferred to leave them here but what was done is done.

Weaving through the corners and shadows, Frost came upon his target building. It was a two story structure in the middle of an intersection and the name, "The Clean Garden Inn" plastered on the top of the door. Textbook example of what an inn should look like and pretty much the only inn in the village. It may be unusual for a Special Operations team to let one man operate but every once in a while, it was a necessary course of action.

Frost would know because that was what a patrolman told when before he choked him out and dumped him in an alley. He would have one hell of a headache but he will live – Iurie, on the other hand, will not be so damn lucky.

Looking at the surroundings, he could see no patrols moving up and down the streets. Even the drone is not picking up anything and the closest patrol from this location was a few blocks away.

With the area being all clear, Frost thought about how he was going to do this. The first option was to climb up a window and search the rooms one by one, but that would take too much time. The second option would be to just storm the place but he quickly shot it down for obvious reasons. The third option – and the most ridiculous one – would be to walk up that door, enter the inn, and ask the host.

Well, he really did not have much of a choice right now. By this time, the rest of the team would be on their way to the extraction point so he needed to wrap this up quickly.

Option 3 it is.

Hiding his primary weapon to under his coat, Frost began walking towards the inn in a brisk pace. A part of him said that this was a stupid idea but he has been in the game for so long and he realized that sometimes, the easiest way to get what you want is to ask for it – politeness was not mandatory.

However, killing the one you asked depended on necessity.

* * *

Inside the inn, the lobby was almost completely empty save for one old man who was sitting on the desk and doing some paperwork. The old man's name was Filib Re Bruis, a respectable member of the community and the owner/chief operator of the Clean Garden Inn, a family business and has been for the last three generations now.

Filib had lived a pretty normal life. His mother and father left him this inn when they died, he got married to a beautiful wife, and she gifted him a wonderful daughter. Of course, there were ups and downs here and there but that was life in Falmart.

His wife had recently passed and it weighed heavily on his elderly heart but he would always cherish the memories they shared. Now the only thing that mattered to him in this world was his inn and his daughter, Aoife.

Thinking about her made him let out a small smile. The girl practically grew up in this inn and when she was older, she began to work here as well as a server. Aoife was pretty well liked in the village for her friendly personality and more than a few times, some of the men would try their luck with her.

Fortunately, Aoife wanted nothing to do with them and had this dream of meeting her knight in shining armor.

A woman's fantasy, Filib understands, but he could not see that happening any time soon. Most dreams in this world do not often come true – much less a romantic one. The world is a cruel place that preys on the weak and the kind, and it just so happened to pay them a visit.

Two days ago, a caravan carrying slaves belonging to Tasos Ve Stavrik arrived and they were looking for a place to stay to rest. These kinds of occurrences are common and Filib has come to accept it long ago…but the problem came when their leader, a man named Iurie, took an unhealthy interest in his daughter.

He wanted her for himself and Filib vehemently refused even under the threat of a sword. The old man would have preferred death than let this pig have his daughter but Aoife…his foolish Aoife agreed.

If Iurie spared her father and the inn, Aoife would let him have her for one night.

Just thinking about it made the old man's blood boil. If he was thirty years younger, he would have snapped that cocksucker in two but there was nothing he could do about it now. All he could do was wallow in his helplessness as his daughter gives up her honor and purity for his sake.

He sniffed a little bit before he put his quill down and leaned back on his chair. His neck and spine were a bit stiff so he stretched his body – the downsides of age. After a minutes of rest, Filib was about to continue his paperwork when he noticed a knife being placed across his neck.

" _Move or scream, and I kill you."_ A chilling voice from behind him say and Filib was inclined to believe that whoever this was, he would go through with it so he complied. _"Where's Iurie?"_

The old man gulped but he remained calm. He did not know what this assassin wanted with that pig but he was curious to find out what. _"You're here for that slaver?"_

" _Yes."_

" _Are you here to kill him and only him?"_ Filib did not mind dying for he has lived a full life. What he could not stand for was the killing of his guest and only remaining family.

" _Yes."_

The old man nodded in relief…maybe he was just fooling himself because when does an assassin keep his word but he would be lying if he said that it was not comforting to hear. Turning his head slightly, he gave the assassin his answer. _"Second floor – last door on the right. You'll find him there. I only ask that you spare my guests and my daughter."_

" _I will."_

Then, Filib felt an arm wrapping around his neck and squeezing the life out of him. He tried to fight it but his vision was already starting to get blurry. A few seconds later, he knew nothing more than darkness.

* * *

Once the old man had been knocked out, Frost gently set his head down on the desk and positioned his arms so he appeared to have fallen asleep. When he was done, he quietly moved up the stairs and unto the second floor.

Upon reaching the second floor, he swung a right and went right for the last door. As he drew near, Frost could hear a lot of grunting and moaning coming from behind the door. He thought back to what the old man said and he figured that Iurie took his daughter to his bedroom to do whatever to her.

Well, he will do the old man this one solid.

He knocked on the door. _"I thought I told you! No one is to interrupt me while I'm busy with this wench!"_

Frost readied himself to burst in there. _"But, my lord, one of your associates came. He said something about trouble with the merchandise."_ Well, it was not entirely false; there was something happening to his merchandise, it is just that he will be powerless to do anything about it soon enough.

" _Fuck! I cannot leave them alone for a single night… You stay here; I'm not through fucking your cunt just yet."_

Frost heard him say before there was rustling of clothes and footsteps coming his way. The instant the door was unlocked; he burst through and struck Iurie in the throat with just enough force to stun him before pinning him on the wall.

A woman with bruises on her faces in the bed was startled but did not scream and tried to cover herself up with the sheets. She was Aoife, a server for her father's inn, and everything was fine until that Iurie pig threatened her father that if he did not let him have one night with her, then he would burn the inn down and take her anyway.

She knew her father would never agree to it but she could not allow the inn to be burned down so she agreed. For hours, she endured the humiliation and the beatings, and prayed to goddess, Miritta, for comfort and rescue, but it never came…until now.

When the man looked at her, she could see no face – only a blackness that promised only death and suffering to those who stood in his way and that made her shiver in fright. He moved his finger close to his mouth and signaled for her to be quiet which she nodded to.

Satisfied with the girl's cooperation, Frost turned his attention to Iurie who was coughing up blood and saliva and jammed his knife into his shoulder, making him groan in pain. _"Where're your slave camps? What routes do you take to transport them?"_

Aoife shuddered; even his voice sounded dead.

When Iurie got over the pain slightly, he glared at his assailant. _"You're a dead man, do you hear me? A dead man! You have any idea who you're fucking with? No matter where you hide, I'll find you and take everything you-"_

Frost did not come here to talk or listen to some bullshit monologue – he was here because he had a mission. Twisting and moving the blade in his shoulder, he was shredding Iurie's flesh as he went along and he will not stop until this piece of shit talked.

About fifteen seconds of non-stop torture, Iurie finally broke. _"P-Please…no more."_ He sobbed pathetically. _"T-There…on the table…a-all the documents and maps you want."_

The Delta Operative turned to his left and he saw a pile of papers there along with a bag. Well, time to wrap things up.

" _Have mercy…p-please, don't kill me…I'll give you everything. I-I have a shipment of slaves. You can take them just please, let me live."_

Having served his purpose, this piece of shit had no more use to Frost so he withdrew his knife from Iurie's mangled shoulder and drove it into his neck – killing him. He let the body fall as he strode to the desk and packed all the documents and maps there into the bag, and slug it upon his shoulder.

Frost walked out of the door without even a single glance to the young woman who did not dare move even when he was already down the stairs.

Exiting from a back door, Frost checked his DWD and saw that he was in the clear – time to head to the extraction point. "Warlord, this is Nightmare Actual. I have a bag full of intel and moving to the extraction point. Over."

"Roger that, Nightmare Actual. Good work. Falcon will be on station in seven mikes. Over."

"Roger that. All units, head to the extraction point. Let's drop the intel off and proceed to our next objective." After a chorus of affirmations, Frost made his way out of the village to meet up with his team where they will drop off the intel to a designated point before heading out to their next objective.

Scouting the Western Legions for a possible air strike.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: IRAQ – AL-HAWIJA DISTRICT – HAWIJA**_

 _ **DATE: AUGUST 04, 2013**_

 _ **TIME: 14:09:44**_

* * *

After almost three months of recuperating and three weeks of getting back into the field, SGT Westbrook was finally given the green light to return to active duty and he wasted no time in doing just that. There were two things on his mind and those were Kaarim and the word, "kill".

That son of a bitch wasted his friends and his brothers-in-arms like it was some kind of sick game to him. They thought they were untouchable – that international laws would protect them. Well, they were in for a rude and very brutal awakening.

The moment he walked out of the hospital, SGT Westbrook was brought to a secret location and met up with Agent Roth. With him back on his feet, they could get to work. The CIA Operative would provide him with all the equipment, intel, freedom, and a team for the SAD/SOG he needs in order to hunt down Kaarim and his men. The only condition was he must act discreetly and not implicate that the United States approved of this Op in any form.

After all, this was a death squad in all but name and the Sergeant reckons that the CIA wants nobody to know that they sanctioned this. In order to do that, Agent Roth had used backdoor channels to temporarily transfer the Green Beret's operational ownership to the civilian sector for absolute deniability.

It was not easy but it was accomplished.

For weeks, they have hounded the ILF in Hawija with extreme prejudice. Every possible location they might be using was raided and torn apart to the last speck of dust. They still lost men but thanks to one man, they were starting to feel fear.

Westbrook became a nightmare to them – adopting what would become his trademark black neoprene mask and tactical goggles. Relentless and unforgiving in action, he killed ILF fighters by the dozens every other day and took no prisoners.

Current estimates puts his body count in the high eighties already but even that was a conservative one. There have been rumors about him torturing captured ILF fighters for information before executing them regardless if they cooperated but it was never confirmed.

His reputation grew and grew until the ILF and the few civilians left in the city began to tell tales of terror about him. To his allies, he was a cold blooded killing machine whose only goal was to destroy the ILF. To the insurgents, he was something sinister. A monster unleashed by the Americans to hunt them down and kill them – an Angel of Death and Judgement.

It did not matter to him, however. They could believe what they want to believe. For him, he was doing completing his mission and his mission was to kill.

Presently, Westbrook was lying on a roof with his lookout, Benjamin Coffers. Bullet casings littered the floor as the Green Beret loaded a fresh magazine into his RSASS. They had been tasked to provide overwatch for the rest of the team as they raid another suspected ILF hideout in some deli shop on the Western side of the city via Roth's intel.

The problem was that the hideout was empty and they were forced to defend themselves when the ILF began swarming the streets and converged on Black Ops team's position. It would seem that they were learning.

"Bravo, this is Alpha! Technical pulling up at our front and spraying the shit out of us! Take that asshole out!" The ground team's leader, Stanley Bennett, ordered as his cell took cover from heavy fire.

"Roger that, Alpha." Westbrook said and not a second later, he fired and hit the gunner center mass. With the threat down, the rest of the team could fight back from their position as the sniper team continued to provide support.

Those Alpha could not get to, Westbrook killed. In fact, anything that did not look like a civilian or an American soldier, he put down. He shot his rifle so much already that his trigger finger began to tire, and he lost count on how many bad guys he has eliminated but he was not stopping just yet.

By the time the shooting finally stopped, the streets were littered with dead and dying insurgents. Entire sections of buildings were destroyed and a couple of vehicles were totaled. Despite all of this, not a single American life was lost – a little banged up maybe but still alive.

"Bladerunner, this is Panther. All targets neutralized and hideout destroyed. The whole thing was a set up." Westbrook informed Roth.

"It looks like they're adapting to your methods, Westbrook. Glad you made it out of there in one piece. I'll make sure to be more thorough next time. For now, get your asses out of there. I'm seeing a US patrol heading your way – ETA: six minutes."

"Roger that. Panther, out." Looking at his watch, Westbrook could see they had plenty of time to disappear into the city before the US patrol comes. "All units, move out. Job's done here." A chorus of acknowledgements sounded in his ear piece and the Green Beret prepared to move out and disappear until he heard someone screaming for help down below.

Looking at the street, he could see one poor fucker desperately calling for help from his friends all the way to Allah all the while trying to push his steaming guts back in. He thought about shooting him and putting him out of his damn misery…and Westbrook was going to do just that when he saw a dog coming towards the killing field.

From his position, he could see the dog had mange, was nothing more than skin and bones, and it had this look in his eyes. The thing was starving and it just found an all you can eat buffet. Unfortunately for the lone wounded ILF fighter, he was the only one left that was considered warm and fresh meat.

The insurgent, realizing what the dog's intentions were, tried to scare it off by throwing rocks at it and moving away. The dog was undeterred and crept up to him with it jaws bared and a bloodthirsty look in its eyes. The ILF fighter tried to beg his attackers to kill him before the dog pounced.

"Should we do something about this?" A man from the ground team asked as they watched the dog maul the poor bastard before more dogs came in and joined the feast.

"No." Westbrook replied callously as he watched the pack of dogs tear the insurgent apart and eating him without a hint of remorse. "Bug out now."

With that, the Black Ops team disappeared into the city all the while the pack of dogs enjoyed the first good meal they had in years.

* * *

 _ **OMAKE: RESPECT AND HONOR (CANON)**_

* * *

Located in the state of Virginia, just on the other side of the Potomac River from Washington, DC, was Arlington National Cemetery. It was one of the United States' most hallowed grounds and the site of which the brave men and women from the Armed Forces who fell in battle are laid to rest.

It was also the home of the Tomb of the Unknowns, a sacred monument to the US Military and dedicated to US service members who have died without their remains being identified.

Since it was the beginning Autumn, the grass almost turned brown and the trees were shedding their leaves. It gave the surrounding lands a golden brown hue and was actually a beautiful sight for a peaceful walk, and that was what one man was doing.

Gingerly walking with his hands in his jacket pockets through the near countless graves was 1LT Derek Westbrook. He wore a pair of grey jeans, a pair of brown boots, a black casual winter's jacket over a white shirt, and a pair of dark sun glasses.

Looking around, he could there were a few people here paying their respects to their loved ones. In a way, he was here for the same reason as well. Every year starting from the day he lost comrades in battle, he would visit Arlington Cemetery to pay his respects. It does not matter which day he came; just as long as he did. It was kind of a tradition for him now.

After a few minutes of walking, Derek finally reached his first destination. He let out a silent breath as he stared down at the graves of MSG William J. Sanderson, SFC Terrence I. Boseman, and SFC Glenn O. Barrett. However, Derek also knew them as Sandman, Truck and Grinch, respectively.

They had been rotting down that Siberian diamond mine for over two months when they were finally dug out. Then President Vorshevsky had vowed to dig the bodies of the men who gave their lives to save his and his daughter's life and return them back home.

Even if it did take two months to accomplish, the President kept his word and properly transferred the remains of Team Metal back to American hands. When they were brought back home, they were given a quiet yet honorable funeral. Derek himself had been present.

After five minutes of standing in silence, he felt that it was time to go. The last surviving member of Team Metal fished out three quarters from his pocket and placed them upon the gravestones – a sacred military tradition.

When was done, Derek took a step back and stood at attention before he gave his fallen brothers a mournful salute.

After that, he went on his way. He had more graves to pay his respects to.

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **I'm baaaack. Sorry it took so long, finals and all that shit. You guys know how it goes.**_

 _ **Anyway, Chapter 8 and a little bit of insight on our boy, Frost. I wanted to portray him as someone who has repressed personality issues that built up over the years without having a suitable outlet. Guess where he found a suitable outlet? Then, those repressed traits began to claw their way out of him as he becomes this force of war. And while he may be a ruthless killing machine - a sociopath even - he has his limits. He does have a small shred of a conscience.**_

 _ **Hope you guys like the little bit about the Filipinos.**_

 _ **To the idiot who says I've abandoned this story…shut up. I ain't abandoning this story of mine.**_

 _ **The pairings? Well, there may be some sexual escapades here and there but romance for our boy Frost? We'll see.**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Special thanks to Cloud Link Zero and Trainalf for their tremendous help with this chapter and for giving me additional content.**_

* * *

 _ **Chapter XI – Covert Ops**_

* * *

 _"Be extremely subtle even to the point of formlessness. Be extremely mysterious even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby, you can be the director of the opponent's fate." – Sun Tzu_

* * *

In a field of bountiful flowers and majestic surroundings, Tuka Luna Marceau was playing a soothing song with her lute while sitting under an apple tree. She smiled as she could see numerous children running through the fields; their joyous laughter echoing in the air as they played to their hearts content.

Just a short distance away was their new settlement at the foot of a mountain and the young Elf could not help but feel happiness swell through her. After so long…after dreaming about it, they had finally done it. The Oflai have finally found a place they could call home and it was truly beautiful.

Tuka could see her little brother, Faelor, finally letting out a true smile as he played with the children – and her father, standing proud and strong as he stood with the other leaders of their people and declared that they shall no longer be nomads.

To Tuka and many others of the Oflai, this was a dream come true. No longer would they wander the land looking for such a place and no longer would they be nomads for they finally found a home.

Tuka let out a contented sigh. It would that the gods had finally showed them mercy and blessed them with their favor. She thanked her patron god, Wareharun, for his generosity and guidance in leading them to their new home.

After she finished her song, the sounds of nature and the peace she felt were slowly lulling her to sleep but before she could welcome it, the scenery slowly changed.

The day turned to night, and the beautiful flowers withered and died. The children who were running and playing in the fields were now being butchered by an army of demons; cut and torn to pieces with the look of terror forever etched on their faces. Tuka nearly screamed when she saw the mangled corpse of Faelor – there was nothing left of him except for his half eaten upper torso.

Tuka shook uncontrollably in horror. How could such a thing happen to the innocent children? However, what she saw next would haunt her for the rest of her life.

A faint glow to her front forced Tuka to redirect her attention and when she did, her eyes widened in absolute horror at what she saw. The mountain which her people had claimed as her home was now an inferno.

The flames and smoke roared high into the sky – a terrible beacon of suffering for every soul to witness. Tuka could hear the pitiful screams of her people as they burned alive. Those that did manage to escape the inferno were so badly burned and disfigured that the young elf just knew that they would not survive.

Most of them were slaughtered by the demons and Tuka felt that they were the lucky ones. Their suffering had ended and it made her sick to her core.

Who could do something like this? The gods know that they did not deserve such a fate! She fell to her knees as she desperately tried to cover her ears to spare her the screams and the roaring flames. A river of tears flowed from her eyes as the Elf wept at the horrendous fate of her people.

She slowly looked up and that was when Tuka saw what she knew was the one responsible for this. Standing just a stone's throw away from her; amidst all the carnage and terror was a lone dark figure. It had no face not did it possess eyes. She could feel it looking at her and it made her shiver because she could feel nothing but the stench of death and malice coming from it.

Tuka thought that she was staring at the very embodiment of Death itself and she could do nothing but cower before it. However, she noticed that it was holding something and she screamed in despair at what it was. Held in its hand was the severed head of her father.

The young Elf could see the look of horror forever etched on her father's face and it sent her over the edge. She wailed in absolute despair as the demons crept towards her – ready to devour her. There was no escape for her and she did not want to.

Tuka had given up.

Then the demons came upon her and began tearing her to pieces.

* * *

" _AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! NOOOO!"_

An ear splitting scream of pure fear jolted Hodor from his slumber and he instantly sat up. What in the name of the gods was that?

" _FATHER! NOOOO!"_

His eyes widened in alarm. That was Tuka; she was the one screaming! Acting quickly, Hodor jumped out of the bed and grabbed his knife before running to his daughter's room. When he got there, he flew open the door and he saw his daughter thrashing wildly on her bed and Faelor trying desperately to wake her up.

" _Please, h-help me. I-I think she's having a nightmare!"_ Faelor begged Hodor with tears in his eyes before turning back to his adopted sister. _"Tuka, please wake up!"_ The boy tried but Tuka still writhed and screamed. Whatever her nightmare was, it was something horrible.

Seeing his daughter in anguish, Hodor immediately went to her side and grabbed her wrists to control her. _"Tuka! Tuka, wake up!"_ He tried to shake her awake but it did little. _"Listen to my voice, my daughter! This is only a nightmare! Wake up!"_

Minutes of trying to calm her down had passed and Hodor was extremely worried now. Just what was his daughter seeing in this nightmare to make her like this? Then her eyes shot open and let out a loud scream before she latched onto her father and cried.

Hodor held onto her tight as he whispered words of comfort into her ears. Faelor too embraced her as well to offer some comfort; he boy had been crying for the safety of his adopted sister.

" _I-It…father…it…o-oh gods help u-us all."_ Tuka bawled into her father's shoulder as he stroked her hair soothingly.

" _Peace, Tuka. You're safe now."_ Hodor whispered to her. _"It was only a nightmare, my daughter. You have nothing to fear."_

" _No, f-father."_ Tuka sniffed as she looked at her father with tear stained eyes. _"I-It wasn't a nightmare…it was…it was…"_ Whatever she was going to say died in her throat when she started to cry again.

Although he would like to know what made his daughter so distressed, Hodor knew that now was not the time to ask such things. He shall ask when everything has calmed down but for now, he needed to be with his daughter.

For the rest of the night, he never left Tuka's side as she finally fell asleep – exhausted after almost an hour of crying.

The next day, he asked Tuka to describe her nightmare to him. When she was done, Hodor felt a chill run down his spine.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: JASEZA DESERT**_

 _ **DATE: KOSHA 12, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 22:05:31**_

* * *

Hidden deep in the caves of the Jaseza Desert in the North Western sector of Falmart was the main settlement of the Fykanis, a warrior tribe of people from various races that worship Palapon, the God of Vengeance. They were composed of people from various races such as Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, Lagoans, Macskans, Lupins and many others that were wronged to the highest degree, and the only thing left to them was revenge.

They first came to be shortly after the conclusion of the Elven Wars of the Rhashae and Druganthi, and the ensuing feudal era of Falmart.

In all of history, there were no shortages of people that suffered greatly at the hands of either life or others. Most would just accept these hurdles and move on with their lives but they were some that felt that their suffering must be repaid in blood.

No one could really blame them really for they had sought comfort and guidance from their previous patron gods. They begged them for help but their gods had chosen to abandon them instead.

This left those poor souls embittered – if they could not have peace of mind then they shall have the sweet taste of retribution instead. Where his fellow gods have failed, Palapon came and offered them a choice: either live with the pain they had endured unanswered or worship him and he shall give them the reckoning they so desired.

With the prospect of getting the justice they so rightly deserve and punishing those that did them wrong, they gladly accepted his offer. With the blessings of Palapon and to a lesser degree, Emroy, they hunted their tormentors and whoever was associated with them down and committed legendary acts of barbarism that earned them a reputation of fear.

Centuries have passed since then and Palapon directed his followers to the harsh and unforgiving Jaseza Desert which would become their domain. As such, only the insane would dare enter the Jaseza Desert and challenge the Fykanis. Not even the Saderan Empire with its almost unending supply of manpower would provoke a war with them

Like the Druganthi, they tend to keep to themselves but many choose to roam the lands as many have been blessed – or cursed – with an insatiable lust to punish the guilty and to fulfill any vow of vengeance that had been said in Palapon's name.

Throughout their travels, they have also crossed paths with the Apostles of the gods. The Fykanis views almost all of them with barely hidden disdain as their gods had abandoned them in their time of need with the exception of Rory, the Apostle of Emroy.

Funnily enough, out of all the gods, Palapon is the only god that does not have an apostle because in his eyes, he has not found a single being who is worthy of that honor. The last one who he had appointed as his Apostle had committed the greatest insult in his name for he had forgiven a man who should have been punished for his crimes.

Needless to say, Palapon had been exacting in making the one who sullied his name suffer for forgiving such a horrid being. What was more damaging was that it was a Fykanis who did the deed.

A Fykanis knows not how to forgive for they had forsaken the very notion it since they gave their eternal service to Palapon and with one of them having done it, it was a severe blow to their honor and pride. Since then, they had strived to repair their damaged honor and redeem themselves in the eyes of the God of Vengeance.

In one of the caves of the settlement, one of the warrior priests of the Fykanis, Skyla, was giving her evening prayers before a shrine in her personal quarters. She was once a proud Rhashae warrior decades ago but she was turned into a slave following her defeat and capture by Saderan slavers.

For years, she had endured unspeakable horrors. Her body soiled by many lustful men; she had been impregnated countless times and she had watched her offspring becoming slaves like her. Her daughters and sons becoming whores the very moment that they were able to walk – they toys to be played with and lust was all they ever knew.

Skyla's mind had been close to breaking after years of abuse and trauma but one thing that held her together was her ever growing thirst for revenge against her captors that put her through such pain. Being a Rhashae, she turned to Zufmuut to give her the strength to endure and to escape but no matter how much she prayed and begged; her pleas went unanswered.

However, her prayers were heard by one of the gods she was raised to loathe, Palapon. He had sensed her desperation and growing thirst for vengeance, and had offered to do what Zufmuut refused to do. At first, Skyla refused his offer but after years of enduring more pain and humiliation, she could take no more and gave herself to the God of Vengeance.

With his blessings, she broke free of her cage and took immense pleasure in slaughtering her captors. After her escape, she had spent the years tracking down those who used her like a bitch and anyone connected to them – be they friends or family – and made them watch as she tore them apart.

They begged Skyla for mercy but just as they ignored her cries for mercy, she ignored theirs before she killed them. At the same time, she also tracked down her offspring; not to rescue them but to kill them. Seeing them like that…nothing more than creatures of lust disgusted her that she bore them, and it became her mission to find and wipe these stains from the world.

Skyla had wiped out most of her offspring but there were still a few out there. She would find them…and she would kill them all. Only then would that grant her peace of mind.

She was almost through with her prayers and when she was done, she opened her eyes. Instead of finding herself in her quarters, Skyla found herself in an unfamiliar room that was littered with corpses. Though curious on how she got here, she knew that wherever she was, it was not a friendly place.

Taking out her dagger strapped to her thigh, she scanned the room for any signs of the aggressor but Skyla found none. After deciding that she was in the clear for now, she turned to inspect the corpses. How a corpse was killed can give a strong indication of his killer after all.

It was a human male – well over thirty years of age if she were to guess. He wore some baggy clothing but she did not took note of it. She could see two red splotches around his chest area and a chunk of his head had been blown off – brain, meat, and blood were pouring out of it. She tried to touch it but found that her hands just passed through. That indicated to her that this was some kind of vision or something but she would deal with that later.

Skyla had seen many similar injuries such these but were caused by swords or blunt objects such as clubs. She could safely say whatever killed this poor bastard was something else entirely. However, she had killed many in her time and she knew every way to kill someone.

The two red splotches on the chest were concentrated directly above where the heart should be – a guaranteed way to kill someone. If that does not work then blowing the brain from the skull would surely do the job.

Now that she thought about it, all of the corpses here sported similar wounds. Whoever did this was proficient in the art of killing, Skyla will say that much. From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of something near the corpse's hand.

It was a strange object if she were to be honest. It was some kind of blunt object composed of wood and metal roughly as long as her arm. The back end – at least to her – was made of wood in a triangular shape and below the tip of it was some kind of handle with a little lever to its side. Next to it was a curved metal – its purpose was unknown to her. At the other end was a tube – again, its purpose was unknown to her.

Skyla did not know what this was but she could guess that this was a weapon of some sorts. If it was, it was something she had never seen before. Was it a new type of staff? Were these dead men mages? Perhaps but she chose not to dwell on it further for it did not concern her.

However the question now was how was she going to get out of here? Just as she was about to head to what she assumed was the exit, she heard faint popping sounds and shouts coming from the far door to her left.

Instinctively, she tensed her body and held her dagger for bear. Judging from the sound, whatever was going on was some distance away from her but she would not take any chances. Although this was terribly none of her business, she was curious nonetheless and Skyla was fairly certain that in order to get out of here, she needed to go that way.

So, with her senses on high alert, she went to the door and opened it. Vision or not, she did not dare ignore her instincts. As the former Rhashae stalked through the halls, she could see more dead men littering it – riddled with holes all over their bodies and even the wall had those strange holes on them.

Strange indeed.

The pops continued to ring out through the halls as she went deeper in and as she went in deeper, the more bodies she found; some having their limbs blown off. Just what in the name of Palapon was going on here…?

She came upon a spiraling staircase and she felt a little apprehensive. Stairs such as these were tricky to navigate and were classic location for unpleasant surprises but Skyla pushed on.

"Y-You American scum…"

Skyla heard someone say in a tongue she did not recognize from the top of the stairs – it was a male judging from the deep tone of his voice. Whoever this was maybe the one responsible for this massacre or a lucky survivor. Regardless, he would tell her what happened here and where she was if he wanted to live longer.

When she reached the top of the stairs she saw two men there. One was sprawled all over the floor and he looked like he was trampled by a stampede of horses. His face was smashed beyond recognition and a piece of his skull was protruding from his cheek. His left arm was bent in a way that rendered it useless and his knees were destroyed. This one had not much longer to live and judging from what the other one looked, he would not die peacefully.

The other one wore bulky beige clothing; he had wounds and blood stains all over his body but judging from his appearance, he looked fine considering. He wore a helmet and Skyla could not see his face as his back was turned to her but she was fairly certain that he wore a mask judging from the straps she could see.

It was clear to Skyla that these two men had a brutal fight and the masked one was the victor. The masked one walked towards his fallen opponent and grabbed him by his shirt before dragging him to a chair where he strapped him there.

Interesting – it would appear that the mask one was not yet done. She moved to one side of the room in order to watch.

"You think that it will stop with me, cowboy? You are a fool to think that." Skyla heard the beaten man say – he was taunting the masked one. "You cannot kill us all. You've tried yet you fail again and again. We will never stop killing you."

The masked one was finished tying him to the chair before he turned around so he was facing the former Rhashae. Skyla scowled – the mask he wore was torn and exposed his right eye but it was enough. She could feel cold rage and cruel hatred coming from him; so much so that she wondered what wrong this man had endured to become like this.

By her name, not even most of the Fykanis radiated such malice. She watched as the masked one walk to a table and ran his hands over a myriad of tools. Interesting, he intends to torture his victim.

"Are you trying to scare me, American? Go ahead. Kill me; I've already had my fun butchering your so-called brothers and using your female soldiers as whores. Oh wait, you can't, can you? Because that would be considered a war crime killing a defenseless enemy."

The beaten man continued to taunt his captor and Skyla saw the masked one's hand stopped over a cylinder before he picked it up. He rotated a small knob at the back of it and the former Rhashae could hear a slight hissing sound coming from it. He pressed a button and the device spit out a stream of blue flames from its front.

Skyla could see a twinge of fear from the beaten man as the masked one walked towards him. "H-Hey, hold on a minute. This isn't the way Americans should act with their prisoners." He tried to free himself from the straps but they were too strong.

Without saying a word, the masked man yanked his victim's hair and placed the flame directly to his ruined cheek.

"EEEEEIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHH! EEEEEIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHH! EEEEEIIIIIIIIIIGGGHHHHHH!"

The beaten man screamed as his torturer slowly drags the flame all over him. Skyla could hear flesh sizzling and cooking as the masked one slowly and meticulously roasted his victim alive.

Though it was a gruesome sight, the former Rhashae kept her composure as she had done worse in her time. Although, that little device would have been very useful and fun had she possessed one when hunting down her tormentors and offspring.

A few minutes later, the masked one relented in his assault and moved away from his victim. Even Skyla had to admit that the damage was horrific. The whoreson's head and the upper part of his torso were completely burned red beyond recognition. Smoke was coming of him as his eyes dropped out of their sockets.

What was more pitying was that he was still alive – if barely. His body shook from the shock and he let out small whimpers of pain. It made let out a small satisfied smirk – Palapon would approve of the masked one's methods and resolve.

With his victim reduced to roast meat, the masked one fetched a small object from his thigh and pointed it at his victim's head. Not a second later, there was a sudden flash of light and a loud pop that made Skyla jump in slight surprise for she had not expected that.

Looking over, she saw that there was a hole the size of her thumb on the head of the whoreson – it was quite similar to the wounds she found on the bodies before. What a strange yet effective weapon.

With his victim dead, the masked one stalked to the stairs and went on his way with Skyla's eyes being trained on him. She would admit that she was a little curious as to who this man was and why she was seeing this. What she saw next was what she could only assume was this man's exploits.

The last one involved him standing at the mouth of a destroyed cave entrance of some mountain accompanied by others like him while some kind of large contraption was connected to the cave by a tube. She could hear people screaming and choking from the inside of those caves and one even had the strength to dig an arm through before succumbing to whatever he was subjected to.

Suddenly, everything went dark and when she opened her eyes, she was back in her chambers. Skyla looked around and she could see and feel the familiarity of the setting and that set her at ease – if only a little bit.

Remembering what she saw in her vision, she knew that whoever that man was, was someone not to be underestimated. Even she could acknowledge that – at least not outloud. She may have forsaken her previous identity but the Elven races prided themselves in their empathy of emotions.

The Fykanis thrived in raw emotion – particularly rage and hatred, and this man had that in spades. What sets him apart however, was the feel of these emotions. While many of her brothers and sisters burned with a desire of revenge, this man was the complete opposite.

What should have been a raging inferno of rage that she was used to; there was nothing but cold and unforgiving ruthlessness that would not shy away from committing the worst atrocities imaginable. She could still feel the rage and hate underneath but they were controlled…focused and that was a deadly combination. By Hardy, she could barely feel a twinge of joy coming from him.

Still, could this be an omen of some sort? Of it was, what could it mean?

What she saw in her vision intrigued her. That human – or if he could still be considered as such – had piqued her interest and she was sure that she would not be given this vision without due cause. Skyla had to consult the High Priest about this which meant and who knows…

" _Maybe I could use this man for my quest."_ Skyla said to herself before she stood up and made her way to report what she saw to the Great Elder.

She navigated through the caves, passing through some of her tribesmen until she came upon the main shrine of the settlement.

" _Greetings, Sister Skyla."_ One of the guards nodded to her. _"What business do you have with the Great Elder?"_

" _Greetings, brothers."_ Skyla said in return. _"I require his guidance on an…important matter. The nature of which, I cannot say but I believe it is a message from Palapon himself."_

The guards looked at each other for a moment in contemplation before they turned back to her. _"Very well, I shall inform Great Eldert Throxl of your intentions. Wait here."_ With that, the guard entered the chamber as Skyla waited patiently outside. A few minutes later, the guard returned. _"Great Elder Throxl shall see you now, sister."_

" _My thanks."_ Skyla said before she entered the sacred chamber of their tribe. Standing before her was the Hugh Priest himself and she bowed in respect. _"Great Elder Throxl, I apologize for disturbing you but I require your counsel."_

High Priest Throxl is a member of the Zer'Anes race, a savage reptilian race that is quite closely related to the Draviers. The differences lay in their anatomy – notably the Zer'Anes' lack of wings, and were more physically imposing and powerful. They have extraordinarily long life spans; almost on par with that of the Elves.

In particular, Throxl is an ancient Zer'Anes from the time when the Rhashae and Druganthi ruled the continent which makes him over several thousand years old. He wore a simple robe over his battle skirt. He had no use for armor as his hide was more than sufficient as a Zer'Anes' skin was nigh impervious to anything short of another Zer'Anes or something more powerful.

His eyes were red in color and a massive scar ran down the left side of his face right down to his snout. He possessed razor sharp teeth and claws that have undoubtedly been drenched in the blood of thousands – befitting of someone who is considered the leader of Palapon's followers.

It has been passed down through the generations that Throxl was the first to become a Fykanis and has served as the Great Elder of the tribe ever since, and has served as Palapon's unofficial Apostle after the disgrace they had suffered at the hands of one of their own.

" _Rise, Skyla, and tell me what this vision of yours is."_ Throxl said and the former Rhashae stood up to tell the Great Elder of her vision. When she was done, he hummed in contemplation. _"Interesting. I must admit, I have had similar visions for the past days as well."_

Skyla raised a brow, not at all surprised since Throxl was Palapon's pseudo link to the mortal world. _"You have, Great Elder?"_

" _Yes."_ Throxl nodded. _"These visions say that a great change was about to take place but that was all I was able to make out in my meditations. However, this might be a warning sent by Palapon."_ He motioned Skyla to follow him to his throne

" _A warning? Of what if I may ask?"_ Skyla asked curiously, wondering what could Palapon be warning them about.

Throxl sat on his throne. _"As you know, the Gate of Alnus has opened again months ago and the Saderan Empire foolishly sent an invasion force through. They failed miserably and are preparing their armies for war. Word has reached me that over half of their Western armies are marching East towards the capital."_

Skyla nodded her head in understanding. Of course she knew about that for she had heard rumors here and there about it the last time she travelled. She has already collected her pound of flesh from her tormentors so she did not really care about the Saderans at this point…but she would be lying if part of her was not smiling.

" _I have heard about this, yes."_ The former Rhashae nodded. _"It would seem that the invader is now the one being invaded – the irony is not lost one me. Do you think current events and our visions are connected though?"_

" _It's possible though I can't say for sure."_ The Great Elder nodded. _"I will consult this with Lord Palapon but if the man from your visions is part of this otherworldly army from beyond the Gate…Lord Palapon might have tasked you with finding him."_

Skyla kept her expression neutral but she could grasp the thought. _"Lord Palapon is interested in this man joining our ranks? Or maybe become his Apostle?"_

" _He would not go through the trouble if not."_ Throxl said before standing up. _"Prepare yourself for the journey, Skyla, to find this man. If Lord Palapon does desire this man to join us, we must first test his resolve. Once we have his blessing, you will set forth and find this man. Observe and test him but do not approach him just yet. Only do so if he proves himself."_

Skyla bowed her head in acknowledgement. _"Of course, Great Elder."_ With that, she departed to her chambers to get some rest – she shall prepare her equipment and supplies tomorrow.

If Palapon truly deemed her as the one to test this man then she shall do it. After all, maybe Skyla could manipulate things so that she could use him in killing her remaining offspring.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: KODA VILLAGE**_

 _ **DATE: KOSHA 13, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 10:47:03**_

* * *

The village of Koda was a quaint little village located no more than sixty kilometers to the West of Alnus Hill and was the closest settlement and point of interest from the US Main Operating Base.

Hidden in the vegetation on a small ridge overlooking the village some seven hundred meters away was one of the teams of the Combat Support Group, "Oracle" of Task Force 117 – Sentry 2-1. It was led by CAPT. Taylor Davis, a forty one year old operative of the Intelligence Support Activity and had crossed paths with the Major in operations in the Middle East – operations that were strictly need-to-know.

While the Platoons' objectives were to conduct reconnaissance upon their designated locations, the CSG's purpose was to gather actionable intelligence and make contact with the natives which Count Formal had specified were neutral for possible future cooperation.

Presently, ground teams of the CSG were deployed to make contact with the numerous indigenous people in Falmart which included some of the scattered villages, the Oflais, and the vassal kingdoms. For the latter two so they could be convinced to cooperate with the Americans or at the very least, stay out of the coming conflict. Another thing was that a team of their best was infiltrating the Saderan Capital to identify high value targets, recon the interior of the city, and locate American hostages if there were any left there.

For this instance, CAPT. Davis and his three man team were assigned to make contact with the mage known as Cato El Altestan. The latest intelligence report was that he lives near the village of Koda but did not specify an exact location.

Their orders were to make contact with him – peacefully – and persuade him if he was open to negotiations with the Americans and serve as his temporary liaison until an ODA can take over the job. CAPT. Davis had experience as a negotiator to an extent but he will let their CIA attaché do most of the talking and he carried gifts to present to the Cato to signify they come in peace. Command does not want to leave this to chance or lead to unwanted bloodshed.

Of course, they still do not know if the mage would be truly friendly as what Count Formal claim so the Americans were a bit wary. Nevertheless, the team still did not know where that mage was located so they would have to resort to the tried and tested method of asking for the directions from the locals. After all, it was one of their objectives to m8ngle with the locals to obtain intelligence.

The Captain peered at the village through his binoculars from a concealed position approximately seven hundred meters to the South West of the village. From his point of view, he could see no Saderan soldiers present and only a few dozen of militiamen to defend from bandits or something.

Other than the fact that they probably know that there is a war going on, the people there were just minding their own business.

While he saw no defenses on his own, the Captain would not leave it to chance as he withdrew behind the vegetation and back to his team. "Give me a Sitrep." CAPT. Davis requested from his second-in-command, 2d Lt. Kyle Y. Underwood, a member of the 24th Special Tactics Squadron.

2d Lt. Underwood had deployed their PQ-1A Spook drone to comb the village and its surrounding area for any signs of trouble. After doing a few sweeps, however, he could find none. "Scan of the village complete, sir." He said as he brought up a rendered map of the Koda. "Village and the surrounding area are clear of any Saderan signatures. However they still have a substantial militia patrolling the streets." To prove his point, he highlighted the individuals who were armed red. "There are two entrances to the village – one on the West and one on the North. All of them connect to the main road. Infiltration is possible through the various alleyways, sir."

CAPT. Davis nodded as he studied the map. He could see that there were a little over two and a half dozen militiamen patrolling the village and he nodded – not enough to give them any substantial problems but he knew better than to underestimate a foe.

"Population?"

2d Lt. Underwood shrugged. "Considering the size of Koda, it could house about three hundred or more people. However, I'm reading no less than seventy to ninety civvies. My guess is most made a run for it because they heard of a war coming. Fortunately, there seems to be no Saderans here."

CAPT. Davis hummed. Well, if the civvies wanted to run then let them – the less people that get in their way, the better. Moving on, with less than a hundred people present, there was bound to be someone who could assist them. They had to be careful though because a good chunk of them were designated defenders.

"Got a fix on our objective?" The Captain asked.

"Negative, sir." 2d Lt. Underwood shook his head. "Drone's not picking up a damn whiff of him. What's the play?"

The Captain though about how they were going to do this before he called the rest of his guys back. Once they were, he ordered 2d Lt. Underwood to recall the drone and pack it up before explaining his plan. The nature of their mission means that Task Force 117 had full authorization to execute their objectives as they saw fit provided they handle it with…finesse.

"All right, boys, here's the gist of it. Command's been trying to find this Cato guy for weeks now with no luck – our drone hasn't had much luck either despite being this close. Either he's in deep in the forest or using magic shit to hide, I don't know. But I'm willing to bet that someone in that village knows where he is." He could see that his team was a bit apprehensive about the implied course of action – understandable because so was he but unless someone had a better idea, this was the best one he has got.

"It's not like we hadn't planned for this. Let's just get it over with." Blake C. Horner, a CIA Case Officer who had served with SEAL Team 3 before being recruited by the CIA. He is also team's pseudo-diplomat as is with all CIA Cos attached to each team.

CAPT. Davis nodded his head. "All right, we all known what to do. Make yourselves seem friendly but don't let your guards down. Double check you gear – we move out in three."

"Roger that." 2d Lt. Underwood replied as he and the rest of he team prepared to move out while the Captain contacted Command to inform them of what he intends to do.

"Warlord, this is Sentry 2-1. We're just outside Koda Village. Substantial militia forces but no Saderan presence detected. /Break/. Unable to locate Objective: Chronos. Say again: can't find him. We're going to divert to Secondary Objective for the moment. See if they have anything for us to use. Over."

"Sentry 2-1, this is Warlord. Solid copy on your last. Do what you have to do. Over."

"Affirmative. Sentry 2-1, out."

"Sir, we're ready to move out." 2d Lt. Underwood said and Capt. Davis nodded.

"All right, let's go introduce ourselves to the locals. Keep that drone in the air. I won't have them getting the jump on us." He said before they stood up got out of their concealed position before walking at a passive pace towards the village.

They did not want to spook the folks there too much so the Americans tried to seem less threatening…well less threatening considering how scary looking they were to the average native.

* * *

In the village of Koda, everything was as it always been. Women were doing their daily duties the same with their husbands and the menfolk while the children played out in the bright sun while the village guards patrolled the streets to keep order.

Although it may seem like a peaceful setting, the people there were no fools. The villagers – at least those old enough to understand – understood that they were dangerously close to a warzone. Mere months ago, a whole Saderan Army passed through them to launch and expedition through the Gate.

Of course, the villagers experienced some…incidents here and there but nothing anyone was used to but they were glad that the army had passed them so they could get back to their quiet life. That is, until they heard news that the Empire was at war with something beyond the Gate. What was more was that the Saderan Legions that had passed through their homes were almost completely destroyed by whatever it was beyond the Gate.

Understandably, most of Koda were scared for their very lives. They did not know what kind of enemy the Saderans unleashed by they were not willing to find out what. That was why some of the villagers fled with their families and property to safer lands while those actually brave enough stood their ground.

Some weeks ago, they spotted a small contingent of Imperials racing towards the Gate. Now that put some relief into the villagers' hearts despite being strong armed for supplies. However, the last time anyone saw a soldier from that group was over twenty days ago and they were getting extremely worried.

Could it be that whatever the Empire had fought over there had already come here? What was more, just a few nights before; the village awoke to a strange thumping sound in the distance before disappearing just as quickly as it came.

This incident manage to convince almost half of the village's populace to leave and only seventy nine people remained in Koda. Tension and anxiety was running high for everyone but they tried to live normally.

Presumably a way for them to cope was just to ignore the problem all together – an understandable human response in times of great hardship but an impractical one in the long run.

Presently, in one of the homes of the village was a young woman named Rani Et Laethem who was sweeping the floors of her family's home. Her husband, Adil, was busy cutting some wood outside for firewood and their young son, Joren, was playing with the other children outside.

After she was done, Rani wiped the sweat from her brow and released a sigh with a smile. Being a wife and a mother was back breaking work but it was all worth it especially that she was a little over two months pregnant.

Rani caressed her somewhat flat stomach tenderly; the bump on her stomach was barely noticeable thanks to her clothing. Of course, it made doing housework harder and she would get tired more easily but she thanked the Goddess, Miritta, for blessing her family with another child.

Feeling a bit parched from cleaning the house and she thought maybe her husband was as well, she decided to grab a drink from the village well. When she got out of her home, she saw her husband dutifully cutting some wood to be used as firewood.

" _Hello, Adil."_ Rani greeted warmly to her husband as she went over to him.

Upon hearing the voice of his wife, Adil looked over to her and let out a smile before he set his axe down to the side. _"Hello, my wife."_ He greeted back as he wiped the sweat from his face and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. _"How are you?"_

" _I am fine, my husband. Though I think our child is a bit thirsty."_ She gave her stomach a gentle pat and Adil chuckled in delight.

" _I see. Come, then. Let us get you something to drink. I am sure Joren will be happy to see us there."_ With that, Adil accompanied his wife to the well in the middle of the village in order to get a drink.

On the way, they passed some of their fellow villagers who greeted them which they did in return – the residences of Koda were a tight knit community. Upon reaching the well, the couple saw their son, Joren playing with the other children and smiled. He was a good son to them and they would not have him any other way.

When the boy saw his parents coming towards him, Joren smiled widely and ran to his parents. _"Mother, father!"_ He hugged his mother as his father ruffled his hair.

Rani giggled as she hugged her son. _"Hello, my son. Having fun, I see?"_

The boy nodded his head enthusiastically. _"Yes, mother! We were playing this new game trying to hit pebbles with other pebbles. It is really fun."_

Adil smiled lightly. _"We are just going to get your mother some water to drink, Joren. Go ahead and continue playing. We shall be at the well should you come looking for us."_

" _Yes, father."_ With that, Joren ran off back to his friends and continued to play their games while his parents walked off to the well.

Once they reached the well, Adil had his wife sit down on the side as he lowered one of the buckets down to the well before he brought it up and sat it down on the mouth of the well. He handed Rani a wooden spoon and she had her fill of the sweet cold water.

" _Thank you my love."_ She said to him sweetly before she handed him the spoon in order for him to have a drink.

After Adil was done drinking, he dumped the water over some flowers that were growing on the side and returned to his wife. Rani laid her head on his shoulder and they just let themselves enjoy the peace for a short while.

It was times like these that made you forget that a war was soon to begin.

Back at Joren, he was still playing the game with his friends. Although he had trouble with it at first, he had gotten better. Something which elated him and bragged about – he was young child, they tend to do that.

A few minutes in, he had won the last round of play and the children were preparing for another round when he caught sight of something from the corner of his eyes. Joren turned to his left and he could see coming down from the road were six black mysterious figures. It made him curious about what the nature of these figures were.

" _Hey, look at that."_ He pointed at the figures and the other children looked at where he was pointing and they were intrigued but also a little alarmed.

" _What do you think they are?"_ A little girl asked.

"… _I do not know."_

Soon enough, some of the adults grew curious at what the children were looking at and they became increasingly concerned. They did not look like Imperial soldiers but the figures held an aura of mystery and danger on them.

Back at the well, Adil and Rani noticed that the people around them were getting frantic. _"What is happening?"_ Rani asked curiously.

" _I do not know…but let us find out."_ With that, the couple stood up and waved over a mother trying to usher her daughter home. _"Excuse us, but what is happening?"_

" _Adil, some of the children have spotted six strange men coming towards the village. They do not look like Imperial soldiers but we do not know who they are. Perhaps they are those otherworlders. Please, take your wife and children home."_ With that, the mother hurriedly ran to her home while Adil and Rani looked at each other terrified before running off to find their son.

If these were really the enemies of the Empire from the Gate, they were not safe at all.

" _Joren! My son, where are you?!"_ Rani shouted for her son as they weaved through a frantic crowd. _"Joren!"_

" _Mother! Father!"_ The voice of their son made them turn as he ran towards them. _"Mother, t-they're coming closer! I-I saw them coming here!"_ The poor child stuttered in a frightened tone.

Rani hugged her son closer before Adil rushed them back to their house. He hid them in their home's store room and grabbed a cloak and placed it over his wife and son. _"Stay hidden until I come for you. I will join the guards."_

His wife looked at him like he had gone insane. _"What?! No, come here and hide with us, Adil!"_ The Gods know how scared he truly was and how much he wanted to join them but he knew that he had a duty to uphold.

" _What kind of husband and father would I be if I did not do something to defend you three."_ To emphasis on his last word, he placed a hand over Rani's belly. _"Forgive me, Rani, Joren, but I must do this."_

Rani wanted to argue with her idiot of a husband but she just let out a growl. _"Go, but make sure you come back alive. I will not raise two children without a father."_ With that, she pulled him towards her and gave him a deep yet quick kiss before Adil hid them under the cloak and shut the door behind him.

With his family safe for the time being, Adil ran outside and grabbed his axe before he joined the guards and those brave enough to defend their home from these monsters. Soon enough, they were also joined by the village chief, an elderly man named Branik Re Prichal.

" _Where are they?"_ Branik's tone was even but there was a hint of fear in them.

" _There, Chief, just a little over halfway from us and the main road."_ One of guards said. Though he tried to be brave, there was a noticeable tremble on his arms. _"Shall we charge on and attempt to kill them?"_

Branik observed the six men who stopped at the middle of the path. Even though he was already an old man and his eye sight was a bit blurry, he could clearly see that whoever these men were, they were warriors. Their clothing and weapons were strange to him and he could not determine from where these men came from.

His initial assessment would be that these warriors came from a faraway land beyond the Empire's borders. Not completely false but Branik could not discern the possibility that these warriors came from beyond the Gate.

If that were true, then they were a small scouting party looking for Imperial settlements to plunder, he reckons. By the Gods, their army was most likely entrenched here already!

Branik did not risk sending scouts to Alnus because he knew that it was too dangerous and no one would be brave and stupid enough to volunteer.

Just then, the villagers saw one of the strange warriors raise his arm up and waved at them in a placating way. This was a strange scene to say the least because the villagers expected that they were going to be attacked or something.

" _What are they doing?"_

" _Strange…do they want to talk or something?"_

" _I doubt it; this is probably a ploy for us to lower our guard."_

The men whispered among themselves, trying to figure out what to do until Adil leaned to closer to Branik. _"What do you think we should do?"_

Branik weighed his options. If they refused to accept the invitation to talk, these men may see it as an insult and attack their village. However, if they do go out and talk to them, there would be no telling what was going to happen.

After a few minutes of careful contemplation, Branik motioned the villagers to gather around. _"I know all of you will not approve of this but I have decided to meet with them and I need one of you to come with me."_

Understandably, most of the defenders refused and Branik sighed. He could not really blame them; they were scared and he would be lying if he said that he was not but it had to be done. He was holding onto a foolish and idealistic hope that maybe these warriors can be reasoned with.

At the very least, he wanted to know who these men were before they killed him and the village.

It took a good while before one finally volunteered. _"Gods help me; I will go with you, Branik."_ Adil said as he walked towards the village elder. _"If things turn bad…at least I have a chance to take one of two of them with me to Hardy,"_

Branik nodded as he and Adil cautiously walked towards the strangers – hoping for the best bust expecting the worst.

* * *

"Took them long enough." 1SG Alexis J. Pitts, a member of Delta Force, commented offhandedly. "Two of them – an old man and one armed guy – coming at us."

"Majority of them have formed a defensive perimeter in our direction – count at least four dozen of them maybe more. Some heat signatures in the structures – most likely non combatants." 2d Lt. Underwood reported as his drone finished another sweep of the village.

CAPT. Davis nodded. Even though he has done this countless time before, there was still a tremendous amount of danger for him and his team. "All right, boys, let's be nice but weapons ready if they try anything. Underwood, be sure to keep an eye on the drone for anything. Horner, hope you got this." The Captain said as he and his mean made themselves presentable but ready for action should the need ever arise.

"Don't worry. This shouldn't be much of a problem." Replied the CO.

After a few minutes, the two subjects were finally close enough to have a conversation with and the Americans could see that the two were incredibly nervous. While the members of the Task Force have studied the native language here, they were no means fluent. They could understand it for the most part but could only speak a little. Thank God for the translation software on their DWD; that would make things a hell of a lot easier to communicate with the natives.

CAPT. Davis raised his hand up in a placating gesture before he looked at his DWD. _"Greetings, I am…Captain Taylor Davis of the American Military and these are my men. We wish to talk to the man in charge of this village."_ He tried his best to say it correctly but from the perplexed faces of the two, he failed.

* * *

Adil and Branik looked at each other in slight confusion. If they were honest, they expected to be cut down here and there but they were not. They were greeted cordially by who seemed to be the leader of these warriors and that put them slightly at ease.

Although, the way the man spoke their language was atrocious with many words being pronounced wrong – it was understandable but still, that was a moot point. These strangers say that they want to talk then so be it. It would appear that no blood will be spilt today if everyone remained calm.

Branik cleared his throat. _"Welcome Captain Taylor Davis of the American Military. I am Branik Re Prichal, the village elder, and this is Adil Et Laethem, a resident of Koda."_ He spoke clearly as Adil gave a hesitant nod, still holding on to his axe.

They saw the leader, Captain Davis; look at his wrist which made them curious because it had some kind of glowing rectangle on it. Was it some kind of magical device? Were they battle mages or something?

They could find that out later when they build up the courage to ask. Instead, Branik and Adil took measure of their…visitors. They could see that they were warriors all right but unlike anything they have ever seen before. Instead of bronze armor and standard Imperial battle uniforms, they were clothing that had splotches of different shades of green. They carried bag packs, pouches, and helmets in the same colors. Some of them had black coverings on their eyes which made the two curious on how they were able to see, and some of them wore masks.

The weapons they carried were also strange to the two Koda natives. They could see no swords or spears on their person – perhaps they were concealed – but they did carry these strange black crossbow-like contraptions. Well, they assumed they were crossbow-like from the way these warriors handled them.

All in all, despite their amicable visage, these men were largely unknown and most likely, extremely dangerous. Branik and Adil knew that they had to be careful in dealing with them.

" _Nice to meet you both."_ Captain Davis nodded at them. _"In case you're wondering, we're not here to cause trouble. We only want some information on the whereabouts of the mage Cato El Altestan, and then we'll be on our way."_

Branik looked at them suspiciously. Cato was a friend to the villagers and he helped them through some hard times so forgive them if he were a little apprehensive in believing these strangers. _"What need of you of Cato?"_

Captain Davis shrugged. _"This is going to take us a while to talk about it so why don't we take it inside? My boys and I won't cause problems for your people, you have my word."_

Adil leaned closer to Branik's ear. _"What do you think?"_ He whispered, keeping his eyes on the six men in front of them.

" _I do not know. I do not trust these men as of yet but they have given us no indication that they mean us any harm."_ Branik replied. _"We shall lead them to the village – we'll continue our conversation there."_

Adil looked a little uncomfortable at that aspect. _"Are you sure that is wise, elder?"_

" _No, and Gods forgive me if I am wrong, but it is the only course of action we can make. Go back to the others and tell them to remain vigilant but do not harm the strangers unless provoked. I will handle the rest."_

Adil hesitated before he nodded. He cast one last look at these strangers before he turned back and jogged his way back to the village to inform the rest of what happens next. He hopes that nothing harmful will come of this.

" _I have sent him back to inform the others that you will be coming. I must explain things to you all."_ Branik saw the Captain nod so he continued. _"You will be considered our guests during your stay here. No one shall harm you nor hinder you unless it causes harm and you shall do the same. If not, then we will have no choice but to retaliate. Do we agree?"_

Captain Davis and his nodded in understanding. _"Reasonable terms. Just as long as your people don't bother us, we won't bother them."_

Branik nodded, feeling a little better that they agreed to the terms he set but it remains to be seen if they would truly uphold the agreement. He motioned for the men to follow him and they walked back to Koda Village.

* * *

Upon entering the village, the Americans could feel many eyes looking at them with suspicion and caution – some of them look too jumpy that they could pounce at any time. Even though the Village Elder said that no one would attack them, the Americans knew better and kept their weapons at the ready and eyes open for any potential danger.

After a few minutes of following Branik, they reached what appeared to be the village's town hall or something. _"Only you and one other may enter, Captain. I leave it up to you who you shall bring."_ The elder said and CAPT. Davis nodded.

"All right. Horner, with me. The rest of you stay put and play nice. This won't take long." CAPT. Davis said before he and his second in command entered the hall while the others just lounged around outside.

The atmosphere was…awkward to say the least but at least the civilians kept their distance from them.

Inside the hall, CAPT. Davis and 2d Lt. Underwood were directed by Branik along with others who possibly run as well into their main meeting area.

" _Gentlemen, please, take a seat."_ Branik motioned for the two Americans to sit and they obliged. With everyone seated, the elder cleared his throat. _"Now, you have our undivided attention, Captain. May I ask what is your purpose here and what need have you of Cato El Altestan?"_

* * *

For what felt like an eternity, Rani held her son close to her as she whispered sweet nothings into his ear to reassure that they would be fine his father would come back to them. If she was honest with herself, she was trying to reassure herself as well because she was afraid.

She silently prayed to the gods for the safety of her husband out there and to spare their loves from death.

" _Mother…when are we going to come out?"_ Joren asked as his mother kissed his forehead.

" _Do not fret, my son. We will leave here the moment your father comes to get us._ "

Joren looked at his mother. _"Will…will he come back?"_

Rani smiled reassuringly at him. _"Of course, he will. Your father is the best. You said that yourself, remember? I would wager that he is out there beating the bad men right now."_

" _R-Really?"_ Joren asked, his eyes wide with wonder.

" _Yes, so do not be afraid, my son. Just wait for his return to us."_ Rani embraced her child once more. She was glad that she was able to bring hope back to her son but she feared that it was a false hope.

Moments passed before they heard their door open and Rani shielded her child with her body; fearing that it was some kind of bandit, it made her fear spike.

" _Rani, Joren, I have returned!"_ Hearing the voice of her husband, mother and child sprung from the room and ran towards the one they had been waiting for.

Rani hugged her husband tight around his neck while Joren hugged his waist. _"Thank the gods you are fine. I thought we had lost you."_

Adil hugs his family back with equal fervor. _"For a moment there, I actually did."_ Although he was more than willing to die in the defense of his home and family, he was thankful that it did not come to that.

It took a few moments before Rani pulled away from her husband to look him over for any injuries – thank heavens there was none. _"What's happening now? Did those strange men leave?"_

Adil shook his head. _"No, they are still here."_ Sensing her coming distress, he laid a hand on her shoulder. _"Calm, my love. They do not come with ill intent and from what I have seen, they have made good on their word."_

Though she relaxed at hearing that, she was still on edge. _"But why come here? What do they look like?"_

" _They are strange looking, let me tell you."_ Adil sighed as he directed his wife to the chairs to sit. _"I can agree with Branik that they are warriors but their weapons and attire are strange to me."_

" _How so?"_ Rani asked, titling her head.

" _Well, they were dressed in some strange clothing – baggy and not an ounce of armor, and their coloring was curious as well. Splotches of green adorned their fabrics – the reason behind this is unknown to me."_ Adil shrugged before continuing. _"All four of them had their faces and eyes covered so I could not see their faces but their weapons were nothing like I have ever seen before. They did not carry swords but black crossbows of unusual design. Besides that, they were cordial enough, I'd say."_

Rani processed all that she had heard from her husband. They were a strange bunch indeed and she would be lying if she was not curious about them…but she wad not curious nor courageous enough to go put there and meet with them. _"What are they doing now? Did they come here for supplies?"_ It was usually one of the main reasons men like that came to villages anyway – to exploit its inhabitants if not to pillage it.

" _No, they came here to talk and find the whereabouts of Cato. Their leader said that he wanted to do business with the old mage."_ Adil said. _"Right now, they're talking with the village elders. That is the time that I decided to come back here."_

Humming, Rani scratched her chin in thought. She did not know what kind of business these men wanted with Cato but she hoped that it was not a dangerous one. The old mage and his apprentice had been a friend of the village for some time now despite his eccentric antics – perhaps it was his old age.

" _Well, we shall let Branik handle them. I think that he is more than capable. For now, what say I prepare us some food to unwind out nerves."_

Adil smiled happily. _"That would certainly help. All this tension has made me hungry. What about you, Joren, what do you say?"_ He turned to his son who sat on his lap.

" _Sure! I'm hungry."_ What the boy said made his parents laugh. A good distraction to the tension outside.

* * *

While waiting outside the Village Hall, the two Americans were vigilantly watching the townsfolk go about their business – albeit a little nervously. Every once in a while, they would cast wary glances at the two armed men before moving on if they were spotted.

"This whole set up is tense. Won't be long before one asshole jumps the gun." 1SG Pitts whispered at his companion while watching the people move about. It did not help them in anyway that they were surrounded.

"I know." 2d Lt. Underwood agreed. "I can see some of the militia twitching like crazy – waiting for us to make any sudden moves. Just be cool."

1SG Pitts scoffed. "Easier said than done. Well, I don't know about you but I'm getting kind of hungry." With that, he reached into his pack and took out a small container of MnMs. "Want some?" He offered as he opened the pack.

2d Lt. Underwood shrugged and held out his hand before 1SG Pitts poured some chocolate on it. At the corner of his eye, he spotted something of note. "At my four o'clock, bunch of kids eyeballing us." He said as he took a piece to his mouth.

"I see them." Replied the First Sergeant as he ate some. The two were trying not to make it obvious that the little tykes were spotted. "Do you think they're spying on us? Trying to get us to lower our guard for an ambush?"

2d Lt. Underwood hummed. Back in the Sandbox, it was not uncommon for children to be used in such a way. One too many times, children were used to bait US forces to an area only to be ambushed or become suicide bombers. So forgive them if they are a little wary of children in a warzone.

"Maybe…just keep your eyes open. Drone's not picking up any suspicious activity for now but keep sharp."

"Roger that."

* * *

Inside the Hall, Branik could only massage his temple as the man, a mister Blake Horner, finished his explanation. It turns out that they were in fact from beyond the Gate – the place where the Empire had invaded – and that their army had already took control of Alnus weeks ago.

Of course, this made almost everyone panic but Horner assured them that they meant no harm to anyone as their war was with the Saderan Empire. That did little to calm down the people but it was a start.

They also explained that they were called Americans and had orders to make contact with the indigenous population to either cooperate with them or to convince them to stay neutral. The same could be said for the vassal states who no doubt were already mobilizing their armies.

" _I see…and I can only assume that you'd need Cato to access Rondel?"_ Branik asked _._

" _Yes."_ CO Horner nodded. _"We'll offer them the same choice as we gave you but with his presence, we can get it done quickly."_

Branik and the other leaders whispered amongst each other for a moment before turning back to the Americans. _"If we do agree to your terms, what do you intend to do with us while you wage your war?"_ One of the elders asked. This was a valid question in their perspective.

" _Nothing. Unless you give us a reason to come after you, we won't bother you."_ CAPT. Davis replied.

A few more minutes of back and forth were done before they finally came to an agreement. Koda Village shall agree to the American's terms and stay neutral in this war and in return, would have no part in it and would receive aid if need be.

" _You all made the right decision."_ CO Horner smiled. _"I'm sure my superiors will be happy to hear about this._ " The first successful and peaceful contact with the locals – essentially an alien race. That was another one for the history books.

Branik sighed as he nodded. _"I sincerely hope so. But we will have to take your word for it. As agreed, some of the men shall lead you to Cato's cottage. The task of convincing him to your cause, I shall leave to you."_

" _Thank you for the heads up but I think we can handle it."_

With their business concluded, the Americans and village elders adjourned their meeting and proceeded outside.

* * *

"What's the deal?" 1SG Pitts asked once he noticed the his teammates finally came out of the building.

"They've agreed to stay neutral and lead us to the Mage." CAPT. Davis informed them before shrugging. "To be honest, I was expecting for a little more resistance from them but who care. Anyway, give me a sitrep – anything happen here?"

2d Lt. Underwood shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary, sir. Locals kept their distance from us for the most part. Think they were curious but mostly wary."

"Understood. Police your gear and be ready to move out because we meet Objective Chronos in about ten mikes."

"Lima Charlie, sir."

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: OBERNDORF – ELBE KINGDOM**_

 _ **DATE: KOSHA 14, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 14:20:02**_

* * *

For the last few weeks, the armies of the vassal states have been amassing in preparation to assist the Imperial Army to do battle against the Otherworlders. The entirety of the Elbian Army – over sixty thousand strong – has assembled in the capital city of the kingdom and is waiting for the other nations to arrive with several contingents of the armies of Ligu, Alguna, Toumaren, and Mudwan led by their respective rulers with more to come.

Although they are assembling in a reasonable rate, they could still move even faster but chose to discreetly slow the process down at the recommendation of King Duran. Of course, this was to get a better feel on the situation seeing as there is a possibility of foul play going on behind the scenes.

After all, if an enemy can wipe out seven legions of the Imperial Army, then this is not a laughing matter. Prideful they may be – sometimes arrogant even – but imbeciles they were not especially with the evidence staring them right in the face.

In North entrance leading to the main camp, three sentries stood guard as they lounged about. One of the sentries, Ancius Fu Psellus, was snacking a piece of roasted beef along with his compatriots and were soldiers of the Elbian Army.

Ancius was a young man of nineteen years of age and had enlisted in the army just recently. His family hailed from the Southern province of the kingdom and were simple farmers. They had lived a relatively peaceful life until the news of war breaking out against the Empire and something beyond the Gate. What drove home the nail was that this enemy smashed seven legions and was set to invade the continent.

By that time, Ancius had made his decision and enlisted in the Army despite his parent's objections. As a soldier, he was nothing special – he wad only adequate in the art of combat and had very little knowledge on being a leader but he will be damned if he did nothing to protect his home.

" _Pass me some water, lad."_ Pavlo Et Rudenko, the sergeant in charge of the entrance, requested as he held out his hand and Ancius obliged.

" _How long do you think we have to wait here?"_ Ancius asked, wiping his mouth with his sleeves.

" _Until our king orders the march. You know this, boy."_ Pavlo replied. _"Many share your anxiety but we shall see action soon enough."_

The other sentry, Anund Do Dinesen, scoffed as he threw what was left of his food to the hounds. _"If you ask me, I say we let whoever they are finish the fucking Saderan Empire off. We sure as all hell are not going to miss them."_

" _I hold no love for the Empire as well, but what do you think will happen when they are through burning the Saderans?"_ Pavlo challenged. _"They may turn to us next."_

" _Then we shall boast to the gods that we outlived an Empire."_ Anund laughed before he stood up. _"I'm going to take a piss. Be right back."_ With that, he stood up and walked to the bushes to relieve himself.

Ancius gargled on the last of his water before spitting it out. _"Do you really think the Empire can be defeated by this enemy?"_

Pavlo sighed. _"I have no idea but I do know that if anyone has the power to wipe out entire seven legions is a force to be reckoned with. If that happens, do you think we will have a chance?"_

" _We'll die trying."_

" _Boy, only fools say that."_ The sergeant chuckled before he stood up. _"We better return to out posts. I know this is a boring job compared to the others but it is a necessary one."_

Ancius nodded as he moved to his post to resume his duties.

About half an hour has passed with no activity to report save for a few patrols coming in here and there and Ancius was trying to occupy himself with craving a piece of wood. He had no design in mind; he was just carving it for the sake of it.

He was about to take another stroke with the knife until he spotted something from the corner of his eyes. Turning, Ancius could see a single rider coming towards their position. _"Pavlo, Anund, I've spotted a rider coming towards us."_ Within moments, his two compatriots were already by his side.

" _Most likely a messenger."_ Pavlo hummed. _"Can you see what color he is flying?"_

Ancius squinted his eyes to look for any identifying symbols. _"It's hard to say but I believe he is flying the banner of Clan Formal._ " That put the other two slightly at ease since the Clan shares a close friendship with Elbian Royalty.

Anund chuckled. _"He must have some balls if he crossed through Alnus."_

" _He could've just circled around it."_

" _True."_

" _Enough."_ Pavlo admonished his subordinates. _"Prepare to receive him but be ready for any surprises. It is not uncommon for bandits to use such deceitful tactics."_

* * *

Ten minutes later, the rider arrived at the entrance and Pavlo held his hand up. _"Hold there, friend. Identify yourself and state your business here."_ He stated as his men remained o guard.

The rider's horse let out a snort before he removed his helmet and introduced himself. _"I am Lorenz Du Koehne, an officer of Clan Formal's Army and I bring a message from Count Formal to King Duran of Elbe. It is imperative that je receives it."_

The three sentries looked at each other in confusion before turning back to the messenger. _"Apologies, Lorenz, but I am afraid that Count Formal is dead. You may have been mistaken since you've ridden long and hard to get here."_ Ancius said. Yes, that had to be it.

Lorenz shook his head. _"No, believe me, the Count lives for I had accompanied him in the expedition."_

That shocked the three to hear that Count Formal was actually alive. Questions began flooding their minds before Pavlo cleared his throat. _"…Anund…g-get an officer here or anyone that can escort him to the king."_

"… _At once."_ The man ran off to find someone to get rid of this new headache.

Pavlo turned back to Lorenz and scrutinized his face and body language for any deceit. Fortunately or unfortunately, he could detect none. _"I am not saying that we do not believe you but…we will have to transfer you to someone more capable. Until then, you will have to remain here until they arrive."_

Lorenz nodded. _"I understand."_

The men waited in an awkward silence for a little more than seven minutes until they saw Anund coming back with a group of three knights coming at them. Ancius recognized them as knights from the Order of the Storm and in front them was Captain Allistair Val Elliades, son of Duke Droze Val Elliades, Lord Commander of the Elbian Army, and commander of the Order.

Captain Allistair was a young man in his mid-twenties with a medium build and short dark blonde hair. His eyes were blue in color, a common trait of the Elliades family.

Stopping just at the threshold of the entrance, Pavlo and Ancius bowed their heads in respect to a superior officer. _"Captain Elliades."_ The sergeant greeted to which the Captain nodded.

" _Your man has informed me of the situation, I shall take it from here."_ Captain Allistair said as he eyes the messenger, Lorenz. _"Return to your post, I shall deal with this."_ With that, the three sentries relinquished control of the situation and returned to their duties. _"Lorenz Du Koehne, I presume? Before we move on from here, I must inspect your message."_

" _But, My Lord, Count Formal has requested that only King Duran may read what this missive contains."_ Lorenz knew that he was pushing his luck here but orders were orders.

Captain Allistair scowled slightly. He could argue against that but he really did not have the time for such games. _"As a compromise, I shall only inspect the physical appearance of the missive. If what you say is true and this is a message from Clan Formal then I shall take you to the king myself."_

Lorenz knew that this was the best deal that he was going to get so he conceded and handed the missive towards the Captain who promptly took it.

Allistair studied the appearance of the letter, taking great care to spot any signs of attempted forgery. After a few minutes of inspecting the letter, he concluded that this was a legitimate missive. He handed the letter back to Lorenz but he was still unconvinced.

" _I can safely say that this is indeed a legitimate letter from Clan Formal but I don't believe that this came from the Count for he is dead."_ Allistair sat up straighter. _"We shall escort you to the king and you shall hand him that yourself. I pray that you are truthful in this as King Duran dislikes having the name of his friend being used in such a manner."_

Lorenz nodded, with no fear in his eyes, as the three knights escorted him to the castle. As they rode to the castle, Lorenz looked up and saw a brief glimpse one of those flying vultures the Americans had. It was slightly unnerving that the Americans had eyes and ears almost anywhere and they had the power to wipe out the vassal kingdoms without even lifting a finger.

The moment Count Formal had completed the letters he intended to send to King Duran and Italica, Lorenz volunteered to be his messenger to Elbe; citing that it would be better if an Italican is the one to send his letter about the prospects for negotiations between the vassal states and the Americans.

The commanders of the American army considered this and approved of the idea so Lorenz was to accompany a covert team to head South. The last he saw the American team was last night when they infiltrated a small village. Before they sent him on his way, they had strapped with a strange device that they explained would enable them to listen into the talks.

Lorenz considered running to the wind but he knew that they was watching his every move so he had no choice than to follow through with the plan. What was more, before they departed; he met the leader of the American unit. Needless to say, he was inclined to cooperate with the Americans if he wanted to keep his life and body intact.

Unknown to him, that same listening device he had on also had a tracking feature so if he did run, he would be hunted down. Oh well, that was war – you really cannot trust anyone.

* * *

In the war room of the castle, King Duran along with the highest military officers of the Army as well as the leaders of the other vassal states and their own military leaders were discussing on the current situation and build up of their forces, and their battle plan.

" _Your Highnesses,_ _the Elbian Army has fully mobilized with the majority of our forces consolidating here while a few divisions are stationed in the countryside as security and defense."_ Duke Droze Val Elliadesreported to the assembled leaders of the coalition. _"Corroborating this is that the armies of our allies have done similar measures. Currently, our combined forces number at over ninety thousand with an additional twenty three thousand more due to arrive in the coming days."_

King Duran nodded as he peered over the map. _"So that puts us at one hundred and fourteen thousand strong. I hope that it will be enough to stop the tide."_

Duke Romero Pedretti of Ligu chuckled. _"It is far more than enough, my friend. With our superior numbers, we can simply surround the hill and bombard them with boulders and magic from our ballistae and mages, respectively. We might not even need the Empire for this."_

While they admit that the first part of his words had merit to it, the others knew not to be arrogant at this juncture.

" _Do not underestimate this enemy, Duke Pedretti."_ King Timoteo de Lunar of Alguna said. _"We do not know of their full capabilities and do not forget that they managed to decimate seven Imperial Legions. That is no laughing matter or to misplace pride over."_

" _However, I find merit in your suggestion, Your Lordship."_ Duke Elliades said as he circled the area surrounding Alnus Hill with his finger. _"If we can surround them fast enough, we can prevent them from breaking out keep them on the Hill while ballistae, mages, and dragons harass their positions day and night. The mind and body can only go so long with very little rest and when we give the order for our troops to attack, the defenders will be too exhausted to put up a sound defense."_

At his rough plan, the other leaders agreed with some pitching in their own contributions to make their efforts more effective.

King Duran himself would admit that it was a sound strategy but it had one flaw. _"That is considering that the enemy has not fully consolidated their hold on the Hill and has some kind of counter measures in place."_

" _Do you really think so, King Duran?"_ King Darius Reza Tarokh of Mudwan asked after a few moments of contemplation from all of them.

King Duran sighed. _"I honestly do not know, but I do know that the Imperial Army had launched a surprise attack on our lands, it would take us months to assemble our armies and victory would be still out of our reach. These Otherworlders managed to defeat seven legions in mere hours on the same day that they were invaded. With how fast they reacted, there is little reason to believe that they cannot do the same in deploying here. They could have already moved past Alnus Hill and taken territory beyond."_

Now, he was starting to doubt his decision to slow down the build up for it may have just given the enemy time. By his own words, the enemy could have already taken Italica by now, a thought that weighed heavily on his heart.

That got the others to think about it and it made them grow nervous. The King of Elbe was right – these Otherworlders were radically different from them in how they think and how they wage war.

" _Then it is imperative that we speed up the build up."_ King Benedicto Marciano Corte-Real of Toumaren declared. _"I will have riders to contact our remaining forces to move faster. I suggest you all do the same, my fellow kings."_ The others nodded in agreement.

Before further planning could be done, there was a knock on the door. After King Duran gave his consent, Captain Allistair entered along with two of his knights and one other man.

Briefly making eye contact with his father, Captain Allistair bowed his head in respect. _"Forgive our intrusion, Your Highnesses, but this man brings a message from Clan Formal – specifically, a message from the deceased Count Formal."_

That earned the ire of everyone in the room but King Duran recognized who this man was and was mildly surprised. _"Thank you, Captain. You may go, I shall handle this."_ With that, the knights vacated the war room and left Lorenz there to fend for himself.

" _You have a lot of nerve insulting the name of one of my closest friends, knave."_ Duke Pedretti hissed. _"Count Formal was a good man and I will not have someone dishonor his name like this."_

Before things could escalate, King Duran held up his hand. _"Hold, my friends. I know this man and he is not one to lie about this."_ He said as he stood and walked towards the man. _"It has been a long time, Lieutenant Lorenz. The last time we met was when young Myui was born."_

If he was honest with himself, Lorenz was damn close to shitting himself but he thanked the gods that King Duran recognized him. _"It has, Your Grace. I thank you for your hospitality but I am afraid that I am here on business."_

King Duran hummed. _"Yes, a message from Colt. I was led to believe that he is dead but you say otherwise. Do you have proof of your claim?"_ The King of Elbe's voice was hard as steel but he was curious nonetheless.

" _I do, Your Highness, and this letter shall prove my honesty."_ Lorenz said as he kneeled down and presented the missive to King Duran who could see that this was an authentic letter of Clan Formal. _"Before you read the contents of this missive, King Duran, know that it has not been tampered with or forged. I swear on my life."_

" _I will be the judge of that."_ King Duran said as he took the letter and broke the seal to read its contents. When he saw the first letters, his eyes grew wide as he recognized this hand writing – it was Colt's hand writing. His mouth was slightly ajar before he turned to the man in front of him. _"Lorenz, explain this."_

The expression of his face and the tone of his voice signified to the others that the messenger was telling the truth and looked at him in shock.

" _As I said, King Duran, the Count lives. I know this because we were one of the lucky survivors of the Empire's failed invasion of the Gate."_

This revelation shocked the occupants of the room to their very core and muttering soon broke out. Others were disbelieving of Lorenz's words but some wanted to know more.

Spurred by King Duran to continue, Lorenz licked his lips. He hoped his short training with the Count on being convincing pays off. _"When we first came through the Gate, what we saw on the other side was nothing short of amazing. As far as the eye could see, we were surrounded by immense structures – structures that I daresay are grander than even those of the Imperial Capital. When the Saderans commenced their assault, we encountered resistance but were quickly overrun. For a while, we made good progress in our expansion until the response force came."_

Lorenz swallowed as he recalled the events of that day. _"The skies were suddenly swarming with Iron Dragons that rained down fire upon our soldiers that tore them apart. No matter what we did, our spears could not pierce its metallic hide and these Steel Dragons delayed our advance. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, there was a tidal wave heading straight at us. From the smoke, we were attacked from all sides by thousands of soldiers and Metal Behemoths."_

He could see that the occupants of the war room were heavily disturbed by his tale but he had to continue. _"Their weapons were powerful…I've seen men being shredded to pieces and being squashed like bugs under the weight of their metal monstrosities. My cohort had encountered one of these monsters and tried to attack it but it shot thunder from its snout…that was all I could remember of the battle and when I awoke, I found myself a prisoner with the remaining survivors. It was only when I reunited with the Count and my fellow Italicans did I realize that there were only three hundred of us left. It was a bloodbath of the highest order."_

King Duran stared at him for a few seconds before he moved back to his chair and sat on it. He and the other leaders all had solemn and haunted looks on their faces. _"Gods help us…our informants were right."_

Mustering up the courage, Lorenz had to ask. _"What do you mean, Your Highness."_

" _Over a month ago, my spies from the capital informed me that seventeen soldiers from the invasion returned with spoils and possibly thirty to forty captives."_ King Duran said with the others agreeing with his words as they too had their own informants in the capital. _"He had Grand Magister Derilus probe the minds of a few of them. They did not catch all of it but informed me that this enemy is extremely powerful and dangerous."_

Lorenz knew that the Americans were listening and he was certain that they caught the King's mention of their people within the capital city. No doubt they would step up their efforts even more now. _"Do you know what might happen to those captives, King Duran?"_

In response, the King of Elbe shrugged. _"I don't know. I'm sure that most of them were sold into slavery and could be all over the continent by now. But what can you tell us about our adversary? Anything at all."_

" _Well, for one they are called Americans and hail from the United States of America."_ Lorenz stated. _"Essentially, their country is a union of fifty states and occupies almost half of a continent."_

Hearing this, the kings' eyes grew wide in fear. They were practically facing another empire here! _"Gods, what hope do we have now? We cannot stand against something like that and expect to win – a hundred thousand men be damned!"_ Duke Pedretti grunted in despair.

" _Are you saying that we just roll over and submit?"_ King Corte-Real challenged though even he knew that this was nothing short of hopeless.

The leaders soon broke out into arguments of what to do next while King Duran proceeded to read the contents of the letter. As he read it further, his expression changed from a scowl to surprise and so on until he got to the last bit that made him raise his hand up. _"Silence!"_ His voice boomed across the war room and the others quieted down eventually before looking at him.

King Duran looked at the letter then back to Lorenz. _"These Americans…they intend to parley with us?"_ That got the others to mutter amongst themselves in confusion and a little bit of interest.

Lorenz nodded. _"Yes, You Highness. As you've read the contents of the letter, allow me to explain that if you all go to war with the Americans, there is nothing but carnage that awaits you."_ He looked down at his feet. _"I still bear the scars of that battle. However, as dangerous as they may be, the Americans are not without reason. Count Formal had convinced them that the vassal states share an enmity with the Saderans and the only participation they would have in this war was that if they were forced into it and to defend their homes."_ At that, the rest of the occupants nodded in agreement.

" _So, they wish for us to negotiate with them?"_ Duke Elliades asked with a raised brow. _"I have heard and seen this happen before, man. What's stopping them from demanding that we bow before their rule? How can we trust them to honor our arrival and not assassinate us on the spot?"_

Lorenz sighed. _"I admit, My Lord, I do not have the answer to that and I truly wish I did…but the fact that I am here should be proof enough. The Americans could have tortured the survivors to death – mutilate us to the point that we begged for death. Gods know that is what the Saderans and some of us would do to a defeated enemy."_ He saw some scowl but did not voice their protests because deep down, they knew it was true. _"In fact, despite us being prisoners, we were treated fairly with fresh clothes and three hot meals each day. Never seen anything like that before in my life, My Lords."_

That baffled the leaders. Why would these Americans go through so much trouble to keep them prisoner? Would it just be easier to execute them on the spot, or perhaps, after a trial?

" _And what of Count Formal? What does he get out of this?"_

" _Nothing, My Lord."_ Lorenz replied. _"Believe it or not, the only reason the Count agreed to cooperate with the American was to save us. Believe me when I tell you that if you go to war with them, there will be nothing left of the continent. What we've suffered at that battle…I would not wish it upon even my worst enemy."_ With that he got on his knees. _"I beg of you, My Lords and Kings, please agree to participate in the negotiations. It is our only hope to avoid further blood being spilt."_

In the beginning, the leaders of the vassal states were prepared to go to war in the defense of their homes. Their forces were ready as well as their spirits. Now, doubt began to eat away at their resolve. Should they fight a war that was not even their own and risk getting destroyed or surrender to another more powerful yet seemingly kind empire?

" _We cannot be considering this! Apart from hearsay and the words of our spies, we have no way of knowing all of this is true!"_

" _And yet, all the evidence we have support the claims. We also have no obligation to fight the war the Saderans foolishly brought down upon themselves."_

" _Say we do not fight what then? What's stopping them from turning their wrath upon us?! I'd rather fight on the battlefield than die in my own castle like this!"_

The arguing continued as King Duran stared at the letter. From what he has read, Count Formal did the one thing he never would do – collaborate with an enemy. At first, the King felt betrayed but as he went further into it, he slowly understood why his friend went turncoat.

Count Formal knew that they would fight if it meant their survival but from his own words, if the vassal states fight, they would die in pieces and their people in ashes. King Duran sighed; why could not things be simple sometimes.

Looking around, he saw his compatriots locked in heated arguments on what to do. Some wanted to fight but others wanted to hear what the Americans had to say at least – it was a stalemate and he had to end it.

What he does next would be the one of the most important decisions of the King of Elbe's life.

" _Gentlemen, please!"_ King Duran's voice boomed once again to catch the attention of everyone present after a short moment. _"This in-fighting will get us nowhere. We have to make a decision now in order to plan accordingly. We choose: we go to war or we parley with the Americans."_

There was another round of discussion for a brief moment before the results came back: it was dead even with half wanting to continue to fight with the other half wanting to hear what the Americans have to say. It was down to King Duran to break the tie.

" _While I understand your point of views, Lorenz, I need to ask you before I make my decision."_ King Duran said and Lorenz stood up straight.

" _I shall try my best, King Duran."_

" _Do you have any idea what the Americans would want from us? What is their agenda once their war with the Saderans is done?"_ King Duran held no illusions that the Saderan could win this, he only wanted to have an inkling of an idea on what the Otherworlders could want.

Lorenz scratched his chin in thought. _"I do not know entirely but from what Count Formal told me from the talks he had with a representative of theirs, he said that the Americans merely wished for those nonaffiliated with the Empire to stay neutral."_

What he said threw the leaders into a loop. _"They…want us to stay neutral?"_ King de Lunar asked with a bit of disbelief. _"I don't understand, very seldom have I heard of an opposing side wanting nothing but neutrality from its potential opponents."_

" _Perhaps it is to isolate the Empire."_ Duke Elliades offered. _"By accepting neutrality in the war, the Saderans would lose our support and have fewer allies to depend on. We wouldn't fear of retaliation from them as well because they would have to cross Alnus Hill to get to us as going in by sea would take too long."_

Duke Pedretti hummed in thought. _"Yes, I can see that logic in that but what happens next?"_

King Duran had heard enough and he has made his decision after careful consideration. _"My friends, we are walking unto dangerous territory. On the other side maybe our assured destruction or something worthwhile. We will not find out if we sit here squabbling like children. That is why I intend to parley with the Americans."_ This was met with mixed reactions but there was nothing anyone could do about it – after all, it was a fair vote. _"Lorenz, tell the Americans that we accept their offer of parley and we shall meet in one week at the village of Kelna at the Jiolm Passage. Along with myself and the other kings shall be a small contingent of soldiers for our protection. These terms are nonnegotiable."_

Lorenz nodded. _"I shall inform them and I am sure they will understand."_ Unknown to them all, the Americans had already infiltrated the village of Kelna for that was where he had been dispatched.

" _Good."_ King Duran nodded before he sighed. _"And tell them that I request the Count to be present. I want to see him alive with my own eyes."_ It is not that he doubted the legitimacy of the evidence presented, he just wanted to be sure.

With Lorenz agreeing, the King sent him on his way.

" _Are you sure that this is wise, Duran?"_ King Tarokh asked.

King Duran sighed tiredly. _"I do not know…but my instincts tell me that this is the right way. We shall see in the coming days if that holds true. Is there any more business we need to discuss before we adjourn this meeting?"_

Duke Elliades cleared his throat. _"There is still the matter of our military build-up? I assume we still continue as planned?"_

" _Yes."_ The King of Elbe agreed. _"Continue to collect our strength for if negotiations breakdown then we will be ready for a fight._ _If that is all, gentlemen, I think we are done here."_

With today's business and surprises done, the kings left for their accommodations to rest and reflect on what has happened this days.

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: ALNUS HILL – MAIN OPERATING BASE: TEXAS PRESS**_

 _ **DATE: KOSHA 16, 687 IC**_

 _ **TIME: 16:39:07**_

* * *

In the central command building, LTG Pearce had overseen the current progress of Task Force 117 in their jobs and they were already giving them results. Teams from Oracle have been largely successful on establishing contact with the indigenous population with the only sort of problem was Sentry 4-1 having a bit of an altercation with the Oflai but was resolved peacefully.

He was looking at a screen that showed another team, Sentry 3-1, infiltrating the Imperial Capital itself dressed as slavers they had intercepted thanks to the intel obtained by Major Westbrook. Unfortunately, there were no Americans in those cages but nevertheless, the slaves will serve their purpose before being set loose.

Despite not finding any Americans in the latest captured slave caravan, the latest report from, Vulture 1-1, one of the teams assigned to recon the Southern sector and accompany the Count's man to deliver his message to the vassal leaders, heard mentions that about thirty to forty civilians were in the Capital but some were already sold and were probably spread out over a very large area. LTG Pearce held no illusions that he would find them all alive but he will burn half of this continent to the ground if he had to. After all, he knew one man who would do just that with no qualms at all.

Speaking of that report, it also mentioned that the vassal kings have agreed to enter negotiations with them in a week's time. Good. If negotiations were successful then that was all fine and dandy. If it does not, then boohoo. That just means more bodies will be torn apart but the General had something that will surely convince them. After all, nothing beats a little show of force.

On another monitor, he saw the detailed representation of this world thanks to the TacSat-10A Seraphus satellite that was deployed not three days ago. The first thing LTG Pearce ordered was to thoroughly scan the world of everything – its topography, geography, mass, air composition, landmasses, anything of note. Data collection was completed just an hour ago and the information was almost compiled to be analyzed by the experts back home.

LTG Pearce was sure that this information will come in handy, not just for the war, but beyond as well. Especially, if they were going to reach out to the other four continents besides this one.

All the pieces were falling into place and LTG Pearce was confident that by the time they were ready to launch their offensive – which is due in three weeks – the Saderans would stand alone and be weakened with all the dissent and disruption of their economy US SOF teams were wreaking.

"LTG Pearce, sir." A Lieutenant called his attention. "We just received a notification from the other side. The UN Task Force has arrived on LaGuardia Airport and Major General John Price has requested contact with you."

"I see." LTG Pearce grunted – the babysitters were here. "Patch him through to my office."

"Yes, sir."

With that, LTG Pearce walked back to his office in order to receive a call from an old friend. Once he opened the video call, he was greeted with the face of Major General John Price. He has certainly aged since the last time LTG Pearce saw him and he had a scar across his cheek from the fall he took after killing Makarov,

"Pearce."

"Price." LTG Pearce greeted neutrally. "It's been a long time."

Maj Gen Price grunted. "It has. You yanks can't seem to keep your asses out of trouble."

"Not our fault this time." LTG Pearce shrugged. "I'm just here to clean this mess up. You, on the other hand, are on babysitting duty." He could not help the small smile forming on his lips.

Maj Gen Price scowled. "Don't test me, Pearce. Anyway, I'm here to inform you that my Task Force will arrive just before you launch your offensive."

LTG Pearce nodded. "Understood. Accommodations and an area of operations will be available to you by then. Is there anything else you want to talk about?"

"Just one." Maj Gen Price said. "Keep Frost on a tight leash. Price out."

* * *

 _ **OMAKE: The Daily Life of the Armed Services #1**_

* * *

In a quaint little home in the suburbs lived a family of seven – a single mother and her six sons…quite the handful they were.

In one of the rooms, the second eldest of the sons, Armand (Army) was ransacking his room for his prized brass knuckles. "Goddammit, where is it?!" He dumped the contents of his drawer onto the floor and flung his clothes everywhere to find it. "I swear, I left it right–" Just then, he realized something and he let out a snarl before marching down stairs.

Armand went into the living room and saw the little thief/shit playing with the PS2. "Martin, give me back my brass knuckles!"

Martin (Marine Corps), the fourth son, glared at his brother before going to the TV and shutting off the console. "What the fuck?!"

"Where the hell are my brass knuckles, Martin!"

Martin glared at his brother. "What do I care about your damn brass knuckles, get the hell out of here before I deck you!"

"Bullshit!" Armard lunged at the little creep but he dodged. "Dammit, I knew it was you so give them back!"

"Are you deaf or just plain stupid, I said I don't got them!"

The two ran around the house until they got to the backyard where the third son, Nathan (Navy), was lounging on a sun chair and wearing a Hawaiian T-shirt.

"Hey, could you two keep it down, some of us are, like, working on their sun tan here." Nathan said in a groovy voice.

Martin promptly hid behind him while Armand tried to reach for him. "Nate, he's trying to get me! Saying shit like I took his brass knuckles! Tell him I didn't do it."

"He didn't do it, Army."

Armand rolled his eyes. "You'll say anything to defend this little turd."

"No, I don't so just go away."

"Fine!" Armand huffed and saw Martin looking smug – looks like he will have to use the big guns. Turning to the pool, he smirked at seeing the fifth son, Carl (Coast Guard) walking around the pool and towing his toy boat. "Hey, Varl, you see where my brass knuckles are."

Carl turned to him with a robotic stare. "I see everything in this house…they're under the sofa."

"Sweet! Thanks Carl!" With that, he raced back into the house to get his property back.

"Yeah, thanks a lot, Carl!" Martin snarked before he stomped back in the house.

"…You're welcome."

A few hours later, a middle aged woman wearing a business suit came through the door and threw her shoes off. This was Elizabeth (Lady Liberty), the mother of the boys. "Boys, I'm home." She called out as she walked to the living room. "You guys better not be–" She stopped herself when she saw Armand and Marting trying to strangle one another with Nathan sleeping on the couch and Carl focused on his boat. "…Killing each other." She sighed tiredly.

Why oh why was her life so complicated?

"BOYS!" Her shout got their attention and they stood up straight with sheepish smiles.

"Hi, mom." They greeted awkwardly.

"For goodness sake, were you trying to kill each other?" She admonished them. "I swear, why you all can't be like Aaron."

At the mention or his name, the youngest son, Aaron (Air Force), came prancing downstairs before cartwheeling into the living room. "You called, mom?"

The siblings may disagree on many things but the one thing they agreed on was that Aaron was a…

"Showoff."

Elizabeth massaged her temples to get rid of the growing headache. "Just…just go to your rooms and–" Before she could continue, their front door flew open to reveal a fifty something year old man wearing cowboy pants, an open American flag cowboy vest, and a New York Yankees baseball cap.

The boys immediately recognized him as…

"UNCLE SAM!"

"Hey, kiddos, ready for our trip?" Uncle Sam asked as the boys ran outside.

"I'm sorry, where are you taking them?" Elizabeth asked as her sons stampeded out of the door.

Uncle Sam smiled at her. "Oh, don't worry, Lizzy. Just going to take the boys on a trip to that rifle convention downtown."

"What? I never agreed to that! You said you were going to take them to the arcade!"

"Uhhh, oh look at the time. Got to run, see you, sis!" With that, Uncle Sam ran to his car leaving Elizabeth there.

"…Goddammit, why do I even try?"She groaned out before heading up stairs to get some much needed rest. Why can't her boys be like Nicolas (National Guard)?

* * *

 _ **EXTRA**_

 _ **High School DxD: The Devourer**_

* * *

Riser was facing off against someone he did not consider worth his time judging from the condescending look he was sending at the stranger's way. He did not know what Sirzechs was thinking when he chose this pathetic human to face him as further entertainment but it did not matter.

An easy victory was still a victory.

"You know, if you beg, I might consider giving you a quick death."

The stranger just stared impassively at him but underneath that impassive stare – one which Riser either failed or was too ignorant to notice – was **HUNGER**.

Seeing that the stranger did not give an answer, Riser chuckled. "Very well, now you burn." With that, Riser sent a torrent of flames towards him and laughed as he assumed victory. "I am victorious! Now Riser claims his prize." However, it was not to be.

The flames suddenly vanished and from the epicenter stood the stranger. Riser was mildly surprised but before he could say anything, the stranger finally spoke.

"You energies are vast but not enough to sustain me for long." Riser scowled as he was confused. "No matter, I would have them all."

With that, the stranger lift up his arm and his hands glow bright red and suddenly, Riser found himself unable to move no matter how much he struggled.

"WHAT?! Release me now!"

"I shall not for I require sustenance."

Then, Riser felt his powers, his energy, his very life force being drained from him and he could do nothing but scream as his body wilted away until he was nothing but dust in the wind.

The stranger felt…odd but at least his hunger had lessened if only for a little while. Nevertheless, this pitiful morsel was not enough to sate his appetite. Just then, he sensed three high powered beings coming towards him.

These beings were the so called leaders of this plane: Sirzechs, Serafall, and Ajuka. And they appeared ready to attack him – useless to a being such as him.

"What are you?" Serafall asked wearily.

The stranger, having had enough playing games, decided that it was time for he had restored enough of his power to do what he must. "I am known as many things, creatures." His body glowed with pure power as he grew to titanic proportions. The Satans could do nothing but stare in awe at the magnitude of power that dwarfed their own by lightyears and the immense size of whatever this being was.

When the power finally dies down, they all knew fear. What stood before them was a being larger that the titans of the Greek Pantheon and dressed in red and purple armor. His eyes radiated power that none could match and he looked down upon them like the insignificant ants.

"You may call me Galactus, the Devourer of Worlds." His hands became engulfed with power. "And Galactus **HUNGERS**."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **Hello, I'm back. Sorry for the really long dry spell but I've been hella busy with tests, projects, research papers, as well as a throat infection. And for the last time, I AIN'T DEAD! Seriously, I appreciate you all love my fic but come on! Say I'm dead one more time and I'm killing this fic! I'VE HAD ENOUGH! People get busy too you know!**_

 _ **Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter because I sure did. Hope you like the Fykanis and my hardcore OC Skyla. She'll serve her purpose in the story. Tuka's dream will mean something down the line.**_

 _ **Hope you like the Omake hehe that's been on my mind for a while now. Feels good to share it.**_

 _ **Price makes his official appearance! Yeahhh….but he's just a babysitter here. After all, he's in his 60s and with all the abuse he put his body through, he isn't as spry as he once was.**_

 _ **That little extra was something I just thought of. Not sure if I want to continue that as I'm invested with Gate. But it's fun to do if anyone's interested in continuing it or me but expect it not to be for a long time.**_

 _ **Anyway, enjoy. Seeing as this term, I'll be hella busy so much, don't expect a quick…well quicker than usual update.**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer: I do not own GATE: Jieitai Kano Chinite, Kaku Tatakaeri and Call of Duty Series, in this case the Modern Warfare Series.**_

 _ **AN: Not yet beta'd.**_

 _ **Chapter X – Diplomacy**_

" _The best weapon against an enemy is another enemy." – Friedrich Nietzsche_

* * *

 **LOCATION: RUGCESTER TERRITORY – WESTERN FALMART**

 **TIME: 19:24:02**

 **DATE: KOSHA 17, 687 IC**

* * *

Traversing through the vast expanse Rugcester Territory was a large formation of the Saderan Empire's Western Legions under the command of Imperial Legate Jonuz Di Bilsimus. The Western Legions were the Empire's primary military presence in that region.

As stated before, the Empire was undergoing a policy of aggressive expansion with the intent of conquering all of Falmart under its rule. The Western Legions were waging a brutal decade's long campaign in that region to subjugate small settlements and minor kingdoms with the goal of reaching the Barboro Sea. With the Western coast in their control, the Saderan Empire could establish trade with another continent after news of Imperial explorers making contact with another entity beyond the oceans.

Emperor Molt, in his earlier days, saw an opportunity in trading with this new power and the prospects of extending his influence to another continent so he sanctioned a massive army to secure the Western coast of Falmart.

Any settlement was given a choice: submit or be conquered. Some chose to submit and others chose to fight but once in a while, someone would break the rules a bit for their own personal gains or just for the fun of it.

Just a little over ten years ago, the Western Legions have conquered most of Western Falmart with the exception of the Jaseza Desert for obvious reasons, and had reached the coast. With their objective finally completed, the Legions were formally garrisoned there in order to safe guard the expected Saderan civilians that were projected to settle there and to maintain Imperial dominance.

Up until now, the Legions maintained a tight grip everything West of Knappnai Mountain Range in the name of the Empire. Numerous times, the Legions had to put down a rebellion here and there but it was nothing that could not be handled by a sharp blade and a trusty spear. Once the region had stabilized, more than a few trading towns and ports were established along the Western coastline in just a few years.

Everything was quiet until the overall commander of the Western Legions, Imperial Legate Bilsimus, received a message from the newly made Consul Meridius that informed him that the Empire was in grave danger from a powerful enemy from beyond the Gate and they needed all the man power they can muster.

Though he was surprised that Meridius had been given the rank of Consul, Imperial Legate Bilsimus knew that the implications of such a promotion was dire. The rank of Consul was only given if the very existence of the Empire itself was threatened and he knew that there was no time to waste as he was a fiercely loyal subject of the Empire.

At full strength, the Western Legions numbered well over two hundred thousand. Imperial Legate Bilsimus had wanted to take the full force initially but common sense won out because he knew that if he brought the entirety of the armies with him, it would leave the Western lands and the important trading ports of the coasts undefended and susceptible to attacks.

As a compromise, he would take only two hundred and thirty thousand back to Saderan lands while the rest remained under the command of someone Bilsimus could count on.

When everything was set, Imperial Legate Bilsimus led the march back home through the Rugcester Territory, a massive expanse of land South of the Knappnai Mountains as going through the Jaseza Deserts would be suicide.

Approximately four weeks since the order to mobilize was given, the Western Legions were only a sixth of the way to their objective thanks to the time assembling the necessary forces and supplies taking up the majority of the time. Even if the personnel were forced to march all day and all night long, it could only get them so far until they all needed a breather.

Currently, the exhausted Western Legions were settling in for the night.

Thousands of tents were set up in order to accommodate the massive Saderan force while hundreds of fires were lit to supply heat to the camp and cook their meals.

Imperial Legate Bilsimus was in his private quarters together with his fellow officers in a final meeting before they turn in for some much needed rest.

" _We're a little more than a third of the way to the Capital, but I fear we will not make it."_ One officer, Tribunus Meelis Ti Avidius, said pointing at their current position on the map. _"Even if we force the men to march nonstop, it will still take us far too long to arrive. I fear that by the time we do arrive, our men will not be in fighting condition if we continue to push our soldiers like this."_

" _I understand your concerns, Tribunus, but we must reach the capital as soon as possible."_ Imperial Legate Bulsimus reiterated firmly. _"Our home is at stake here."_

" _We know this, my lord, but if we go into battle exhausted, we'd be more of a liability than anything else."_ Tribunus Avidius said.

Imperial Legate Bilsimus sighed in frustration but he knew it was the truth. He may be loyal to the Empire to a fault and would do absolutely anything to ensure its prosperity and survival but he knew to be smart about it. He came from a prominent family known for producing competent military commanders.

" _What do you suggest then?"_ The Imperial Legate asked, willing to take some ideas from his officers. _"The facts are that at our current position, it would take us another two months to reach the capital. I fear that the enemy has already established a foothold on Alnus Hill."_ He placed his palm on the Holy Hill on the map. _"If that were true then by the time we reach the Inner Territories, we could find it razed to the ground."_

" _Ah, but that is considering they do break us."_ A Centurion, Drutalus Betto, said as all eyes landed on him. _"Yes, they did manage to destroy seven of our Legions but I think that it was only possible because those Legions were not expecting the enemy to fight with such ferocity so the Legions were routed."_

Tribunus Avidius frowned. Centurion Betto commanded the first cohort on the 27th Legion and he was nothing more than a weasel and a coward who would do and say anything to rise up the ranks. He had seen this fucker abandon his men when battles went sour instead of standing his ground like a true Saderan soldier.

Imperial Legate Bilsimus raised a brow but motioned for the Centurion to continue. _"As you said, my lord, we cannot reach the Inner Territories in time but I believe that the combined strength of the rest of the army will be more than enough to hold this enemy off. High Command and the Emperor himself now know that we face a formidable enemy and would have called all available forces to converge on the Hill including the Vassal States."_ Centurion Betto manipulated the pieces so that the Western Legions hung back while the rest of the Imperial Armies faced against the enemy full on. _"I say, we hang back while we let our allies absorb the brunt of the enemy attack – exhaust them – and once they are, we attack with all we can muster."_ To emphasize this, he rammed the Western Legion pieces into the fray and smashed the enemy pieces.

The other officers talked amongst themselves, considering the proposed course of action while Centurion Betto smiled to himself; thinking that this would give him some points in order to rise up the military ladder.

" _A sound strategy, but as I said, we don't know the capabilities of this enemy and we have no idea how they fight in battle."_ Tribunus Avidias retorted. _"And we're basing this plan on the assumption that the rest of the army can hold them – what if they cannot? Are we really going to risk the fate of the Empire on a gamble?"_

" _And as you said, Tribunus, it will take us far too long to reach the Capital to be of any real help."_ Imperial Legate Bilsimus said. _"It may not be an optimal plan, but a viable one nonetheless. Considering the circumstances, there is nothing we could do unless the entire Western Legions could be flown all the way to the Capital which is impossible. If anyone has a better suggestion though, I am listening."_

Tribunus Avidias held his tongue for he could not think of something to suggest. Bilsimus was right; nothing short of a gods be damned miracle could help them at this point. So he had no choice but to concede. Besides, Centurion Betto could be right and that he might prove to be useful even if his reasons were not altruistic to the Empire.

Seeing that no one had anything to say, Imperial Legate Bilsimus nodded. _"Then it is decided, regardless if we do not reach the Capital in time, we will march like the hounds of Hardy. Centurion Betto, I shall remember your words in earnest. Someone send a message to inform the Consul of our situation. If there is nothing else, this meeting is adjourned. Let us rest for we have a long way to go still."_

With that, the officers bid each other farewell and goodnight before going back to their respective quarters. While walking to his own tent, Centurion Betto could not help but smile. Finally, this was his chance for fame and glory that he knew that he was entitled to since joining the army.

As dreamed of his delusions of misplaced glory, he did not notice something flying overhead.

* * *

Hiding in the darkness of the night sky, the PQ-1A Spook drone orbited the entire camp as it surveyed the area with thermal optics to its operator.

It has been conducting reconnaissance in the camp for any useful intelligence and it had caught a break when the officers had a meeting. Thanks to its advanced surveillance capabilities, the drone was able to capture all that were said in the tent.

"Got it. Looks like the head honchos are betting on the rest of their boys to absorb the full brunt of our attack and tire ourselves out before they smash into the Western side." SFC Collier gave the rundown to the rest of the team from Nightmare's concealed position in the shrubbery several kilometers to the South East of the Saderan encampment. "Okay, data is prepared for transmission back to Warlord."

SFC Mills let out an unamused scoff. "Like that's going to fucking mean something."

SSG Williams ignored him before turning to Collier. "Data has been transmitted. Anything else?"

"No significant Saderan movement going on – looks like they're tucking in for the night." SFC Collier reported. "I'm going to make one last orbit to make sure then recall the drone."

SSG Williams nodded before he contacted the Major. "Sir, you got all that?"

"Affirmative." A few yards away on a small hill, Frost was armed with a Mk 21 Precision Rifle together with 1LT Wilson serving as his spotter. "Finish the last sweep then move to our next vantage point."

Nightmare has been shadowing the Western Legions for weeks now after being deployed at a specific point on the Legion's projected route to the Capital. For weeks, they had crawled through mud and shit, roasted in the blistering heat of this world's sun, almost eaten alive by bugs, but they had a job to do.

Like what SFC Mills said, it would not matter if the Saderans went for this plan. It was already predicted that the Western Legions would not reach the inner Saderan territories because of its size and the vastness of the Rugcester Territory but they still posed a very serious threat if, by some miracle, they do reach the Row Stream.

Regardless, the Western Legions were one of the main target to be destroyed by the air campaign. Nightmare's job was to act as spotters in order to guide the bombers in when the time came. For now, they would lie and wait.

Lying in the brush, Frost swatted away a meddlesome fly from his face before setting his sights back on the Saderan Camp. He knew the MRAD has not got the range to eliminate anyone at a distance of several kilometers – it was just impossible. No, what he was truly observing was that lone patch of heat signatures over a thousand yards to their North.

"Do you have eyes on our guests? What are they doing?" Frost kept his weapon pointed at the camp but his eyes were scanning the vast darkness.

"Standby. Rerouting the drone." SFC Collier navigated the drone to locate their guests. It only took him a few seconds to accomplish it. "Got them. Same position as before – sixty three degrees to the North. Thermal imaging 's showing no signs of major activity, sir."

Frost grunted in silence as he narrowed his eyes. About twelve days ago, the drone picked up a mass of heat signatures a few clicks from their position. They were not Saderan scouts because they were too far away from the main body but upon closer inspection, the team found out that they were non-human subjects.

At first, some had speculated that they were some kind of mercenary or bandit group trying to steer clear of the legions. It was surmised that the group would go around and that would be it but that was not the case. Upon further observation, the unknown group had not gone around but was travelling the legions along with Nightmare.

Assumptions were made but it soon became apparent that this group was not watching the Saderans but the Americans.

The Americans had made an impression on them, however, when the Major lazed one – a female elf – in her forehead with the sniper rifle. This signified that they know that the non-humans were there and could be killed in a moment's notice. Needless to say, they backed off but still stuck around to watch.

Frost did not know what their purpose was in observing them but as far as he was concerned, they were second priority. He had already informed command and they had given him authority to do what he sees fit.

With that in mind, he was almost certain that he was zeroed in on one of them. It would be so easy to squeeze the trigger and watch a good chunk of its chest disappear but Frost will not bother for now.

If they proved to be an obstruction to their mission, they would be dealt with accordingly. Until that time, the Americans would mind their own business. Nevertheless, they would be under near constant surveillance if the non-human group tries anything.

For now, he reckons that it was time to move out to Nightmare's next position. Maybe get some rest if there is still time as well.

"You think they're part of…some kind of Imperial spy network, sir?" 1LT Wilson voiced his theory. "Maybe from someone who doesn't like the current regime or something."

"Doesn't matter." Frost responded – he was getting tired with all of these predictions. "They want to cause trouble, we'll deal with them accordingly but the Legions take priority."

1LT Wilson nodded. He got what the Major was saying: this group was second priority but he had a bad feeling about this whole set up. He was getting some weird Luke-Skywalker-Star-Wars-Come-To-The-Dark-Side vibe – it was getting creepy.

A few minutes later, they spot the drone coming in and land. "Drone's packed and equipment secured. We're ready to move out. Over."

"Copy that. Let's get out of here."

1LT Wilson nodded before backing out of the shrubbery and back to the rest of the team. Frost took a few seconds to further observe the non-human group before retreating as well. He had this feeling, however, that one of them had the had been staring at him straight in the eye ever since he observed them.

* * *

There they go – they had disappeared into the night but for Skyla could not help but smirk. When the Great Elder advised her to go on this mission to investigate her vision sent by Lord Palapon, she had her doubts to be honest. After all, visions were different than the real thing.

When she and her fellow Fykanis finally located these otherwordly warriors, they were following the Saderan Western Legions – the reason was unknown but it was inconsequential.

Skyla was sure that they had hidden themselves well – from these warriors and the Saderans until she spotted a strange red dot on one of her companion's face before it slowly moved to her own forehead.

It was at that moment that she realized that they were found out by the warriors and she ordered the rest to back off but she was impressed. They might be interesting after all.

Right now, as she watched the warriors leave, she was sure that Lord Palapon had choses his apostle well. For hours, she observed these warriors; how they work, how they stay hidden, how they dispatch an unlucky Saderan soldier that strayed too far or had deserted – they do not disappoint especially their leader.

The moment Skyla laid her eyes on him; she knew that he was the one. For her task, Lord Palapon graciously gifted to her a mystical understanding of vengeance and could sense it – similar to the emphatic abilities of an Apostle but to a lesser degree – and she used it so get a feel for this soldier.

Thanks to her making eye contact, she had seen a small fraction of his life and it made her smirk in delight. Of course, he could have killed her then and there but he did not because – as far as Skyla can assume – she did not pose a significant threat to him and his men at the moment but kept her within his vision.

The soldier was vigilant and methodical, and an unstoppable destroyer with little to no remorse – perfect qualities of one who would be the Apostle of Palapon.

" _You have impressed Lord Palapon and I, soldier. But you have more to do in order to gain the honor of serving the god of Vengeance."_ Sky whispered before she slowly crawled back..

By the wishes of Lord Palapon, she would follow him and she would test him. Oh, she would meet him and put him to the test – for Palapon and for her own uses

" _Let us see how far you are willing to go. We will meet soon…Frost."_

* * *

 **LOCATION: SADERA – IMPERIAL ARMY HEADQUARTERS**

 **TIME: 13:11:02**

 **DATE: KOSHA 19, 687 IC**

* * *

Inside his private office, Consul Woldemar Vi Meridius was not a happy man as he viewed the latest reports of the mobilization of the Legions and the secret message that brought his worst fears to reality: the Americans have already entrenched themselves in Alnus Hill and had already consolidated their hold on it.

To add to his growing headache, spies from the Vassal Kingdoms have relayed their findings and reported that the kings of those kingdoms have agreed to negotiate with the Americans.

Consul Meridius had hoped to the Gods that he be given more time to prepare his forces for the coming war but it would seem it was all for naught. Time was the single most important commodity in history…and the Consul had run out of it.

Right beside him, his trusted subordinate, Publius, looked over the reports as well with growing trepidation. _"This…this is not good, Meridius."_ He said in a hushed tone. _"They have already consolidated their hold on the Hill while we are nowhere near ready to launch an attack. Gods help us, this is hopeless."_

" _I know."_ Consul Meridius muttered. _"A third of the Eastern Legions have yet to arrive and the Western Legions are not even a sixth of the way through the Rugcester Territory. What is more, King Duran had convinced the other kings to commence talks with the Americans."_

Publuis had a look of fear in his eyes and cursed under his breath. _"How…how could the Americans move so fast? And how could King Duran do this?"_

" _We do not have an inkling of any idea of their true capabilities, Publius."_ The Supreme Commander admitted before shaking his head. _"I had long known that this war was unwinnable from the start…but I had hoped we would have more time to prepare. As for King Duran, could you really blame him? Your father has humiliated and abused the Vassal Kingdoms time and again. Quite frankly, I was surprised that they accepted my order to mobilize their armies in the first place. With Alnus directly in our path, we could not hope to send an army to quell their possible rebellion in time – nevermind by sea."_

Even though it was hard to hear, Publius could not deny the truth. _"Yes, but…what assurance do they have that the Americans would keep their word?"_

Wordlessly, Meridius handed him a piece of paper and Publius carefully read it. At some point, his eyes widened in surprise as he finished the letter. _"…Impossible…are we even sure this is true?"_

" _King Duran is no fool."_ Consul Meridius said seriously. _"He would not commit to anything without supporting evidence. And for the claim that Count Formal is actually alive, the evidence would have to be iron clad."_

Publius still looked unconvinced. _"And what do you think?"_

Consul Meridius shook his head. _"What I think is irrelevant at this point. The priority now is what will be our next step."_

" _We could send riders to the Vassal Kingdoms."_ Publius suggested. _"Remind them that they are honor bound to protect and serve the Empire."_

Even though they would be well within their rights to do just that, Consul Meridius knew that it would not be that simple. _"We cannot at this juncture. With the Americans consolidated their hold, we are completely cut off from reaching the Vassal Kingdoms."_

" _And we cannot mount an organized and effective attack for weeks."_ Publius sighed in desperation. _"Who else knows of this?"_

" _Besides from the both of us, only the Emperor himself and his Retainer knows. They want to keep this from spreading."_ Consul Meridius replied. _"The spies will not be a problem because he would have had them executed by now. The reason: Molt wants this from getting out because if it does, it would cause great panic and distress."_

At that, Publius could only nod. He knew his father was a ruthless man and the lengths he would go to when it came to governing the Empire. _"True…do you think my father will go so far as to assassinate the delegations of the Americans and the Vassal Kingdoms?"_

Consul Meridius hummed in thought as he considered it. _"It is possible. He might see this as an opportunity to rid himself of the leaders of those kingdoms and install those who are loyal only to him in their places as well as kill the Americans. If he can manipulate the events just right, he can pit the Americans and the Vassal Kingdoms against each other in a bid to wipe each other out…or weaken the Americans enough for us to strike."_

Even though it was a cruel course of action, Consul Meridius could see the tactical gains such an event would give him. If such a thing were to happen, then he would be granted more time to consolidate his forces. Looking over to Publius, he could see that he too understood the gains but in no way did he condone it.

" _Assuming that the attempt is successful."_ Publius pointed his finger at Alnus Hill. _"As you said, we do not know their true capabilities but I cannot help but wonder…"_

Consul Meridius looked at him curiously. _"What is it?"_

" _It is just a feeling but…"_ Publius rubbed his chin before he pointed down at Alnus Hill. _"For the past weeks, we've sent some men over here to re-establish contact with our forward team. We have yet to hear anything…until now."_ He saw his mentor nodding his head but withheld his piece until he heard what he was going to say. _"So, we can assume that they are dead. My question is: why now? Why did Americans reveal themselves at this time unless-"_

" _Unless they are ready to launch their offensive."_ Consul Meridius interrupted. It made sense; the Americans kept their presence in Falmart as minimal as possible so that their build up would remain unhindered. _"They knew that we would take time to assemble our forces. The Americans were counting that we would assume that they would take the same amount of time as us to mobilize their armies. Their gamble has paid off."_

Publius swallowed the lump in his throat. If their hunch was correct, the Americans had been quietly building up their resources and forces for months on a much faster rate than what the Saderans could ever hope to accomplish. If that was true, then the Empire is vulnerable to attack.

For hours, they wracked their brains and debated on what to do next. Publius suggested that they strike now but the Consul told him that while they may have the forces necessary, their closest Legions would have to cross the Dumas Mountains which was easily a week's worth of marching.

" _What if we negotiate as well?"_ Publius suggested, earning a raised brow from his mentor. _"If the Americans were willing to enter talks with the Vassal Kingdoms then we may have a chance in entering as well."_

" _Highly unlikely, Publius."_ Consul Meridius responded. _"Remember that to them, we are the aggressors. They will not send us an envoy to offer surrender appeals."_

" _What about we go to them and initiate negotiations ourselves."_ Publius saw that the Consul was unconvinced so he proceeded. _"The report says that the Americans are not without reason, Meridius. They entered negotiations with the Vassal Kingdoms so that they will remain neutral."_

Consul Meridius scoffed. _"That and they wish to divide us under the banner of friendship. This maybe a ploy to weaken us but cutting us off from our allies in the South."_

" _That is true, but you said it yourself."_ Publius leaned forward. _"We cannot hope to beat them conventionally and we are no where near ready to take them on. For the sake of hundred of thousands of lives, we must give this a chance."_

The two looked at each other for a moment before the Supreme Commander growled and paced the length of the table. Even though that he did not agree with his subordinate completely, he did consider his words.

He knew that the entire might of the Saderan Armies will not be enough to stop the Americans. If the Americans had yet to consolidate their presence and the Saderans had already surrounded the hill, they may have had a chance but now, hope for victory was slim. If they did go to the Americans and appeal for talks, what assurances do they have that the Americans will be honorable? Nothing at all.

Do they choose to attack now while their forces have yet to be properly assembled and equipped or to negotiate with the Americans? Both were incredibly risky and unfavorable but what else is there?

" _If we choose to negotiate, the Senate will not accept it."_ Consul Meridius said. _"The Majority of them support the war effort – be it for glory or the preservation of our home – and the Emperor will have to agree which I know he will not."_

" _Then we do this in secret."_ Publius said that made the Consul glare at him.

" _Careful, Publius. Your words tread dangerously close to treason if the wrong ears catch wind of it."_

Publius met the Supreme Commander's glare with equal intensity. _"You know as well as I do that you hold no love for the Empire and the fools who govern it. Their decision to continue this war will only result in the destruction of our home. The Americans are coming and we have very little choices. Even if I have to do this alone, then I will – this is no longer about nationalistic pride but survival."_

The two continued to glare at each other for a while before the Consul finally sighed. _"I cannot give you any support. If you are truly set in this path, then you operate outside my jurisdiction. If you are captured by a Saderan, I wash my hands of you. Are we clear?"_

Publius nodded with a resolute expression. He understood that what he was going to do, he would be doing it as a perceived collaborator with the Americans. _"I understand."_

Consul Meridius looked at him with a steely expression before he nodded as well. _"I shall continue building up our strength and hasten our time table. I shall order you to ride South to the coastal town of Doveport in order to deliver a message to the Officer in Charge there – that will be your cover. The moment you set foot out of this city, you will be on your own."_

" _I understand the consequences of my decision, Consul. If I die…know that it has been an honor."_ Publius said before he was dismissed by the Consul and left to prepare for his journey.

Inside, Consul Meridius could only sigh in dejection. Publius was one of the best and bravest men he has ever known. He remembered the day when the boy came to him all those years ago – he was a lowly grunt back then – and begged the Consul to train him. Meridius thought of his as a second son and now, he was going on what could very well be a suicide mission.

Meridius could pray to the Gods that Publius was successful and if he were not…be granted peace and honor as a man and warrior to his country.

Unknown to them all, every corner of the Imperial Capital had eyes and ears.

* * *

Hours later in the throne room of Emperor Molt Sol Augustus, he has just finished listening to the report given to him by one of his spies and he could not help but think on this.

Dismissing the spy, Emperor Molt was left to his own thoughts. _'So, Meridius and my son intend to initiate talks with the Americans, eh?"_ He said to himself. Normally, someone of lesser intelligence would see this as treason as Meridius implied but the Emperor was not a fool.

He saw an opportunity here to strike yet another devastating blow to the Americans just as he had with the development with the Vassal Kingdoms.

Just as Meridius surmised, Emperor Molt intends to assassinate the leaders of the Vassal Kingdoms along with the American delegation and pin the blame on each other in the hopes of sparking a war between the two parties. He witnessed the incredible power of the Americans and he was counting on this orchestrated war to weaken them enough for his own army to destroy them.

As for the Vassal Kingdoms, they would be destroyed as they were but they would be rebuilt to the Emperor's liking. As of now, his agents were making contact with the members of the aristocracy in each kingdom that were loyal to him to prepare themselves to dtrikr at the most opportune time.

Of course, the news of Count Formal being alive was a bit of a surprise to hear but would not hinder his plans nevertheless. _'Colt was always one of my staunchest political critics and may listen to him. If he has sided with the Americans, that means his lands and city would as well once they learn that he still lives.'_

The lands of the Formal family were strategically and economically important to the Empire. Emperor Molt knew that he could not afford to lose it to the Americans – he will have to seize and secure it immediately. _'I must compose a royal decree denouncing the Count as a traitor to the Empire and that his lands and riches are to be seized. Godasen and his legions will have to…pacify the citizens if they get unruly.'_

The people living in Formal lands are incredibly loyal to their…benevolent rulers. They would put up some resistance but what hope do they have against three Imperial Legions who they have foolishly let in their city.

' _The latest report indicated that Godasen and his legions are only a few days away from Italica; it would be best to compose that decree and send a rider out now. Hopefully, he can reach Godasen before he reaches Italica.'_ Emperor Molt decided.

With the issue of Italica resolved for now, the Emperor was presented with yet another opportunity.

Publius, his son from a lowly concubine from his harem, intends to ride out in secret to initiate talks with the Americans. _'I must say, I am proud of him for his bravery and initiative…and for making my plans even better.'_

If Publius was successful, the chances of Meridius meeting with the true commander of the enemy forces would be high. Emperor Molt could order the assassination of the American commander and their entire force would become disorganized – easy pickings for his army. As for Meridius…he would serve the Empire as a martyr.

Confident in his plans, Emperor Molt called for his trusted Internal Minister to initiate his plans.

Victory was within the Empire's grasp.

* * *

 **LOCATION: AKUSHO DISTRICT – SADERA**

 **TIME: 21:11:02**

 **DATE: KOSHA 21, 687 IC**

* * *

Akusho is the Red Light District of the Imperial Capital where crime and debauchery runs rampant like a festering wound. The residents here are impoverished to the point where they had to resort to increasingly desperate measures just to get by which included mothers and daughters selling themselves just to feed their families, fathers and sons resorting to robbery and murder to get the things they need.

The people's circumstances were even direr when gangs of criminals were involved – squeezing what little life was left out of the weak and defenseless. However, in the natural order of things, this is how life works – the strong prey on the weak.

Kindness in these parts was an endangered species.

The district was operated by four big crime families: the Gonzori, Medusa, Paramount, and Bessara. These four families were, at one point, at war with each other that devastated the district until a secret meeting was called by Tasos Ve Stavrik.

The specifics of what happened in that sit down were unknown but after it were concluded, the four heads of the family mysteriously disappeared and Stavrik gaining near absolute control of the district with the four families merely acting as figureheads – a pale shadow of what they once were.

Since then, Akusho thrived in the sale of slaves and bodies of all species.

Moving through one of the dirty alleys of the district was a cloaked figure accompanied by an Avias, a winged demi-human, named Mizari, a veteran whore of Akusho. The cloaked figure was none other than Tyuule, the former queen of the Lagoans.

She may be the prized sex slave of Zorzal and nothing would please her more than to flay him alive very slowly, Tyuule understood that there was very little she could do without being killed or worse. So, she endured; bidding her time carefully and enlisting the services of the whores of city as her eyes and ears for anything.

Tyuule had even brokered a deal with the Haryo Tribe, an ancient and secret society of spies and assassins. She knew of them even from when she was queen and had crossed paths with some of the tribe's agents. They were formidable opponents.

Their true goals remain a mystery to Tyuule but with regards to the deal she had made, the Haryo would help her in her revenge provided she could give them a sample of Zorzal's blood. What they want with the Crown Prince's blood did not matter to her; what mattered was their support.

For the last decade, she waited for anything that could be used to sate her need for vengeance. Once, Tyuule had considered joining the Fykanis but her pride would not allow it. She would attain her vengeance with no one – not even Palapon's – help.

She had been patient; waiting for someone or something she could use to destroy the Empire and now, it would appear that her patience has paid off. Months ago, the Empire was at war with something far more powerful than itself – the United States of America, as the new mother and daughter slaves called it.

Those poor people; the mother was found to be pregnant after the near constant rapes so sold her off to one of Stavrik's slave shops while the daughter…well, the last Tyuule saw her was when the Crown Prince was feeling particularly needy. She would not be surprised if the girl split apart at the seams.

Tragic, but for Tyuule, it was inconsequential for they had served their purpose to her. They had told her all about the USA and she was hungry to get their support. The reason why is that they were the mightiest nation in their world and were, most likely, looking for blood after the Saderan's failed invasion.

That is why she had her agents look for any signs of these Americans and find away to establish contact with them. Imagine her surprise that she may have a way to meet with them in this very city. Clearly, she had underestimated their capabilities if they had already infiltrated the Capital.

Nevertheless, if she was going to meet with the Americans, she had to distract Zorzal. Fortunately, Zorzal was always a slave to his carnal desires so Tyuule bought ten virgin slaves and presented them as a gift to the Crown Prince. One can only imagine his delight and he would be very preoccupied in ravaging those girls.

Was it cruel for Tyuule to sacrifice ten slave girls to Zorzal? Yes. Did Tyuule feel any remorse about it? No, because it served her personal vendetta.

With Zorzal thoroughly busy, Tyuule had enough leeway to covertly exit the South Palace and meet with an American representative.

" _Mizari, how much farther?"_ The Lagoan Queen asked.

" _Not far, it is only beyond this corner here."_ The Avias whore said, taking a whiff of her joint.

Tyuule let out a sigh for she was growing impatient. Regardless, she wanted to see the worth of these Americans. If they were really the real deal then she was prepared offer herself to them so long as they destroy the Empire and erase its memory. That is how much she hates the Saderan Empire.

Of course, she possessed vital information that she could use to broker a deal with the Americans – especially one that a Haryu spy had given her just yesterday.

Rounding the corner, the pair walked for several feet more until they came upon an abandoned warehouse. _"This is it."_ Mizari whispered before blowing a puff of smoke. _"Take the alleyway and there should be a door. Enter through there."_ Without waiting for a reply, she vacated the premises. She did her job and she need not need to do more.

The moment Mizari left, Tyuule walked into the alley and searched for a door. Soon enough, she found it but before she entered, she held her knife at the ready – one can never be too careful.

Opening the door, she found that it was dark but proceeded in. Even with her heightened senses, there was very little light for her eyes to use but thanks to her enhanced hearing, she determined that there were six individuals in the structure.

" _I know there are six of you present."_ Tyuule said. _"Show yourselves; I have no time for theatrics and I suspect you do as well."_

" _True enough"_ A voice in front of her responded and the Lagoan Queen had to stop herself from lunging forward with her knife at the ready. In moments, a lantern was lit and revealed Tyuule's hosts. _"Time is precious."_

Tyuule narrowed her eyes at the Americans as she observed them. They had her surrounded which would not be a problem but their weapons were strange. They look like crossbows but where were the bolts? She determined that it was best not to take that chance.

She then turned her attention to the men carrying them. To the untrained eye, they would appear to be normal for they wore clothing similar to the average Saderan peasant but observing from a warrior's perspective, it was clear that they were experts in the art of killing.

' _Hmm, perhaps I can use them, indeed.'_ Tyuule thought to herself before taking a chance and slowly removed her knife from her cloak. She saw them tense up a little but did nothing as she threw it away. Perhaps a little show of trust was needed to get things moving.

" _I am –"_ She was about to continue before she was cut off.

" _Tyuule, former Queen of the Lagoan race. Slave of Prince Zorzal after being defeated in a last stand together with the Macskans and Lupines. Now, secretly want the Prince's blood."_ The leader said before titling his head slight, almost in jest. _"Did I get it right?"_

Tyuule felt anger boil over her at being reminded of thelost battle that led her to her current predicament but she needed the Americans. But she had to know how they knew about that. _"How…"_

" _Count Formal is very cooperative."_ The leader nodded his head to a corner where two chairs and a table were. _"Come on, we have a lot to talk about."_

Of course, it was Count Formal but she would be lying if she was not surprised to find out the he was alive and collaborating with the Americans. She can celebrate about that later; for now she had business to attend to.

She sat down on one of the chairs as the rest of the Americans positioned themselves around them. Tyuule frowned; it was clear that they hold almost all the cards in this setting.

" _Let me introduce myself."_ The leader said as he took off his helmet. _"You can call me Ryan. Me and my men are tasked with knowing everything about the capital and I was told that you could help us."_

Tyuule looked at this Ryan – strange name – in the eyes before speaking. _"Let us not waste time, Ryan. The way I see it, you are just an advance team for the rest of your army – a scout, if you will. The only reason you would be here is to either assassinate key Imperial figures or to gather vital information about the capital. Am I wrong?"_

Ryan leaned forward; both impressed and amused. _"Pretty much. I've heard what's happened to you and your race: once proud warriors reduced to bed warmers. That must really grate your nerves."_ He chuckled at seeing her eyes fume with fury. _"But you're right; time is short and I want to make one thing clear. The way I see it, you need us far more than we need you. I can see it in the look in your eyes: you want revenge for all the shit the Empire put you through. We can give you that…just work with us."_

The Lagoan Queen did not take kindly at being reminded of her current status but Ryan was correct. Though it was hard to swallow, she needed them more than she could admit. Letting out a sigh, she swallowed her pride. _"What do you need?"_

" _Everything you know about the capital."_ Ryan said. _"Every important figure in the city – what they look like and where they live – vital locations of Imperial infrastructure, secret passageways, roadways. If you have a map, we can take it. And if you know it, the location of our people who were taken by the Saderans."_

Tyuule thought about their request and found that it was very doable. Everything they need could be obtained very easily for her. _"Give me a few days to get everything you need. Here is my price."_ She saw Ryan incline his head. _"Like you said, I want the Empire destroyed but what I truly want Zorzal. He dies screaming by my hands."_

Ryan assessed her demands. To be honest, he did not know what the higher ups wanted to do with the Saderans but he knew that after the ground pounders were done, there would not be much of an Empire left. For Prince Zorzal? Well, he could be written off as just another casualty.

" _Give us what we want, we'll give you a front row seat in watching our boys butcher the Empire and we'll give you all the time you want with the Prince."_

Hearing this, Tyuule let out an animalistic grin. Finally, her revenge was within her grasp. While they do seem capable, perhaps she could give them a proper push in the right direction seeing as they care for their captured people from one of their conditions. Aside from her watching, the Haryu will surely be observing as well.

" _With regards to your captured people, I know the location of two – a mother and daughter."_ Tyuule said and she could see that she has gained the Captain's undivided attention as well as his men.

Ryan may have caught a break with one of their objectives which was to rescue any and all American hostages. _"Where are they? What is their condition?"_

" _They are currently under Prince Zorzal's care."_ She said sardonically. _"The mother is pregnant from being raped near constantly – last I heard of her, she was sold to one of the slave merchants. The girl's mind is broken from being raped again and again."_

Ryan cursed under his breath but gave nothing away. It would appear that two were already neck deep in hell and he could only imagine the horrors the other hostages were subjected to. Command had to be notified.

" _Is the mother still here?"_

The Lagoan Queen hummed in thought. _"Possible for she was only sold a little over three days ago. Pregnant slaves are relatively expensive and Stavrik has a…breeding policy in place to maximize profit."_

Ryan chewed the inside of his lips – command would not like to hear this. He knew the way things were in the old times and from those intel packets were bad but hearing from firsthand accounts were something else. _"Noted. Do you know which merchant she was sold to?"_ Perhaps they can find more American captives there.

" _I do not know, specifically, but I did recognize the merchant."_ Tyuule said. _"Fortunately, he operates not far from here. His name is Luca Si Miklos, one of Stavrik's top merchants. He is responsible for the slavery of many of my people."_ She added bitterly.

Ryan nodded. He would remember that name as he already knew who Stavrik is thanks to the intel gathered by the Major. _"We'll take care of him on our end. But the kid, can you get her out of there?"_

Tyuule shook her head. _"Very difficult because Zorzal likes the girl."_ As cruel as it may be, she was glad that Zorzal has a new toy to play with. It means more time for her to plot his imminent destruction at her hands.

" _I suspected as much."_ Ryan sighed. Mounting a rescue operation now would not be the smartest idea because of too many unknown variables such as where are they kept specifically, where would they hide, an escape plan etc. For the success of the mission, those two and whoever else must hold out for a little while longer. _"What else can you give us?"_

" _There is one other thing."_ Tyuule said. _"Zorzal can never keep his mouth shut but according to him, information has just returned from spies around the Empire. It would seem that they know that the Vassal States are willing to initiate talks with your leaders. I would not put it past the Emperor to send assassins to take out the kings but also your representatives. Another thing, one officer by the name of Publius intends to open up talks with your commanders."_

Ryan frowned. This was concerning but not exactly unexpected. However that last bit of information interested him. _"Who is this Publius?"_

" _Publius is Consul Meridius' right hand man and a son of Emperor Molt."_ Tyuule responded. _"Only a few people know the true magnitude of the situation and the outcome of this war – they are two of them. Publius has the blessing of the Consul but not of the Emperor and the Senate."_

" _So this is, most probably, a covert meet."_ Ryan surmised. Command would be very interested in hearing this.

Tyuule nodded. _"Yes, and I wouldn't be surprised if Molt also uses this to take out your leader in order to sow confusion and unrest within your army."_

Ryan merely hummed as to not give anything away. _"Thanks for the heads up. We'll be ready for it."_

Tyuule nodded. She had no idea how these men could get the message out to their army while in the city but she did not care. _"If that is all, I must return to the Palace before Zorzal notices I am gone."_

" _All right."_ Ryan nodded. _"We appreciate the help, Queen Tyuule."_

Tyuule narrowed her eyes at him. _"I am not doing this for you or anyone. I help you because I want the fucking Empire annihilated while I carve Zorzal's flesh from his bones."_

" _All the same."_ Ryan nodded. _"One of my guys will escort you out then you're on your own."_

Tyuule said nothing as she exited the room and the building. As she made her way back to the palace, she made mental notes about her encounter with the beings from beyond the Gate. It was too early to say anything conclusive so she would reserve judgment.

Nevertheless, she would give them what they asked of her: information. She estimates that in a few days, she would have all they require and would send it through her agents discreetly. As for the girl, she poses a significant investment for her. If Tyuule can get her to the Americans, then they should be more receptive of her demands. Of course, that was a problem for tomorrow for she would have to plan it carefully should she choose to get the child.

All she needed from the Americans was to bleed the Empire dry so she can have Zorzal all to herself when no one was looking. She dreamt of nothing except killing the Empire and Zorzal for all the pain and misery she had to endure.

* * *

 **LOCATION: ALNUS HILL – MAIN OPERATING BASE: TEXAS PRESS**

 **TIME: 09:32:11**

 **DATE: KOSHA 22, 687 AC**

* * *

The main operating base of the U.S. Invasion Force was bustling with activity this morning. Soldiers and Marines conducting their usual drills and training, vehicles and aircraft being maintained and constructed, and supplies and equipment were being brought in by the tons.

The base was almost complete in construction with only minor but vital structures left to develop, but for the most part, the base was fully functional. Currently, with the base almost fully constructed, the entirety of the Invasion Force had been deployed to the continent and was ready to take the war to the Saderans.

Most of the aircraft of the U.S. Army, Marines, and Air Force were already finished in construction. This meant that limited flight drills could be conducted.

Of course, as with all deployments, not all things are about action. In fact, most deployments involve long periods of waiting. The only thing military personnel could do in that period was follow a routine of training drills, maintaining equipment and facilities etc.

However, for some, they will not have to wait long.

In one of the open tables within the interior of the base, CAPT Isaac Buckley, together with his Chief Warrant Officer 2, Samuel Becket, were studying updated intel packets they were given and everything else they could get their hands on before they were called in to be interviewed by COL Summers as command of Bravo Company had been given to him in support of Task Force 117.

CAPT Buckley, a man in his late thirties, was the commanding officer of ODA 5323 of the 5th Special Forces Group. When his unit got assigned for this specific deployment, the sheer absurdness was not lost on him.

Looking back, he never thought he would end up here: a fucking mystical door opening up to a whole new world? Rip off Romans and fucking things found in story books and magic? Hell, most of the guys in the base were still trying to process it all. They understood it a little but most were still wrapping their heads around it.

CAPT Buckley shook his head with a sigh. All this thinking about inter dimensional travel or some shit was giving him a migraine. Still, they all had a job to do.

"All right, boys, pencils and books down." CAPT Buckley and CW2 Becket looked up from their notes to see the team's Operations Sergeant, MSG Thomas Ross, coming towards them. "The Colonel's already interviewed the other five teams so it's our turn now. And, uh, boss, we're all counting on you so…don't screw it up." He chuckled as he held his fist up.

"Roger that, buddy." CAPT Buckley chuckled as well as he gave him a fist bump before he and CW2 Becket put away their notes and headed for the base command center.

* * *

The two men entered the designated ODA briefing rooms in the command center before they stood before COL Summers, who was looking over a collection of the latest intelligence reports on a digital sand table, and MAJ Harvey Edwards, Bravo Company's commander.

CAPT Buckley and CW2 Becket walked in front of them before giving a crisp salute.

"At ease, gentlemen." COL Summers said and the two relaxed a little bit. "The Saderans have been gathering their troops up and down the continent." He commented as he looked at some satellite images of locations with high concentrations of Saderan troop formations. "As of now, estimates place their numbers well above five hundred thousand with most assembling at their capital." He forwarded the images so the two can see. "We may have the firepower to blow them all to hell but make no mistake about it, we are heavily outnumbered, we don't know everything in this world, and we are not ready to launch our counter attack just yet. But we do know is that the Saderans have made a lot of enemies we can use."

CAPT Buckley nodded minutely. So, they were going to get some natives to fight for them – nothing new for the Green Berets.

"Thanks to Oracle, we have made contact with two entities that may be willing to work with us." COL Summers said as he pulled up an image of an Oflai elf and Objective: Chronos. "Objective: Chronos or Cato El Altestan has expressed some interest with us after some convincing and willing to take us to Rondel under the condition we don't destroy it. The Oflais were a bit tricky and harder to convince but they've agreed for a few men to embed with them."

"Permission to speak, sir." CAPT Buckley said before the Colonel looked at him for a second before nodding. "From some intel reports, there's a suspected slave market here along the Roma River." He specified the location some two hundred and forty clicks to the South East of the Coan Forest. "Apart from getting friendly with them, we can use them to scope out some trade routes and markets for slaves – maybe find one of our own. Maybe we can use the other races as well."

MAJ Edwards looked at the Colonel to see his reaction but he gave nothing away.

"That's only half right." COL Summers nodded. "You won't be taking the suspected slave site there directly. The Rangers will handle that. Here's the plan: we're going to send in two teams – one for Chronos and the other for the elves. From there, you will meet up with operatives from my Task Force who'll take you to meet the principles. The mission is as follows: earn their trust – ingratiate them to us by any means necessary. Use the elves to find any slave encampments and caravans, and when you get there, you call in the Rangers or you hit it yourselves depending on the circumstances. One by one, site by site, until we find our people and the Saderan slavery market crashes. For Rondel, meet with the leaders of that city and convince then to either help us or stay out of the war. If possible, negotiate a bit of knowledge exchange – that should be enough to sway them. Any questions?"

"So, for Rondel, all we have to do is show off our toys, sir?" CAPT Buckley asked.

COL Summers nodded. "More or less."

CW2 Becket decided to ask one more thing. "Who will we report to or do we have autonomy?"

"For your mission, you have partial autonomy to do you mission." COL Summers explained. "However, until the ground pounders are mobilized, the highest ranking officer in the field is MAJ Westbrook. When it comes down to it, you answer to him."

CAPT Buckley and CW2 Becket nodded. They know of MAJ Westbrook; hell, everyone in the Group knew who that psychopath was. "What support packages are we operating?"

"The usual with a few extra perks thrown in." COL Summers said. "I'll send you the details momentarily if your team is chosen. If there aren't any more questions, tell me what do you think about this op."

CAPT Buckley released a silent sigh. "Well, sir, this whole op is one big giant death trap. We're fighting in another world – that should be enough to give you an indication that things here are not like ours back home. Back there, we know a little bit of the guys we work with like the Afghans. Here, we absolutely know nothing about except for some accounts. We go in and we'll be walking into a mine field from thousands of years worth of conflict and history that we know nothing about. Who's to say that they won't sacrifice us to their god or something. We go in and it's a whole different board than what we're used to. Hell, we don't even know what plants are safe to eat out there or what other nasty surprises. Not to mention that most of the info we have about the races here come from video games and fantasy books. In reality, we really don't know jack about them. So, if anyone has told you that this was going to be a cake walk – they can come out of here unscathed – is lying straight up to your face, sir. There's literally no playbook here and no reference, we're going to have to write it ourselves entirely from scratch."

COL Summers looked at MAJ Edwards as they considered the Captain's words. "You know, I briefed five potential Captains from Bravo Company for this mission with more than a century's worth of military experience between them." The Colonel looked at CAPT Buckley who remained still as if he was waiting for a court verdict. "But you're one of the few that sees this op for the way it is."

In all hind sight, what CAPT Buckley said was all true. The Americans did not know any basic understanding about the races here which could present some problems as far as interactions goes. He was also right about this being a whole new board game with all this being played out on a different world where everything was out to get you. This would not be another simple deployment – this would be infinitely more complicated and deadly if mistakes were made.

"I've made my choice." COL Summer said as the two men stood up straighter. "I choose you and your team to go meet with the Oflai – ODA 5325 will meet with Objective: Chronos." He could see the two men forcing themselves not to smile. "As you said, Captain, we don't really know how things work here apart from some very biased and unreliable reports, and first impressions. You boys have to understand that the odds of surviving this mission are incredibly low."

CW2 Becket nodded. "All our missions are, sir. We knew what we signed up for when we trained to be Green Berets."

"Roger that." COL Summers nodded. "Sentry 4-1'll give you further information when you link up. You're wheels up at 0100 hours – dismissed."

CAPT Buckley and CW2 Becket saluted before exiting the room. When they were out of the room, CW2 Becket whooped in delight and slung his arm around CAPT Buckley's shoulders. "Fuck, man, yeah!"

CAPT Buckley laughed. "Goddamn, we're the first ones in…well, technically the second ones in but you get the point."

"Yeah." CW2 Becket chuckled. "Nice wordplay by the way, Cap. You charmed your way into COL Summer's own fucking heart."

"Shut the fuck up, man." The Captain pushed his Warrant Officer roughly before they head out. "Come one, let's tell the boys we're up."

* * *

COL Summers huffed when the two men exited the room. "You think I picked the right guys?" He asked MAJ Edwards.

"I know these men, sir. They'll get the job done." The Major said. "ODA 5323 has more combat experience than any team in the Group along with 5325. For this op, they're most venomous snake."

COL Summers nodded. He had no doubt that these men can do the job – he read their records and they were exemplary – but still, some of them may not make it out alive here. Who knows what they will face out there; the Saderans are just the tip of the iceberg.

Before he could respond, the Colonel received a call from his phone and he answered it. "COL Summers speaking."

"COL Summers, LTG Pearce has called for you. Please report to the General's office. Over."

"Copy that, on my way."

Putting away his phone, he bid the Major a goodbye before he made him way to the LTG Pearce's office. Upon entering, he saw the General seated at his table and reading some reports.

"Sir, do you need me for anything?" COL Summers asked ad he stood in front of the General.

LTG Pearce bid him to sit down before handing him the report. "Take a look at this, Summers."

Looking over the contents of the report, the Colonel could not help but nod at what he was seeing. "So, our team in the Capital managed to get Tyuule, the former Lagoan Queen's cooperation. She's agreed to give us names, maps, anything that can help us in exchange for the Crown Prince. That should be doable."

This is, indeed, a good development. He knew of Tyuule; a prize slave of the Crown Prince Zorzal thanks to numerous testimonies of Count Formal and the prisoners and she also had an intense hatred for him. If the price for her cooperation was a crack at the prince then it was a small price to pay…after he had served his usefulness to the Americans.

LTG Pearce nodded as he had done this before. "Yeah. Normally, I'd just write him off as another statistic and hand him over to her on a silver platter but there's one problem."

COL Summers looked at him with a raised brow. "What do you mean?"

"Keep reading."

The Colonel frowned but did as he was instructed. What he found out made him frown even deeper and growl. "…Son of a fucking bitch."

"Yeah, looks like the reports on him are true. He's a real piece of work." LTG Pearce said neutrally. "He's got two of our people as his personal fuck toys – a mother and a girl. One's already pregnant and the girl's most likely lost it by now."

COL Summers was angry but he had to admit that this was nothing he was not used to unfortunately. After all, these kinds of things were still prevalent on the other side – not to mention that slavery was still the norm here – but that does not make this any easier to stomach. "We got to get them out of there."

The General nodded his head. "Agreed – and any other American civies still trapped there. The question is how and when. The team's got the supplies but I don't think that'll hold put for long and I reckon most of those poor bastards need serious help. This whole Tyuule-Crown Prince thing can wait for now."

The Colonel hummed in thought. What LTG Pearce said was right, Sentry 3-1 had enough food and medical supplies to last them weeks but with approximately two or five more bodies to feed and patch up, those supplies could dwindle to nothing very quickly. "We can't extract them because they're right in the middle of enemy territory – too much of a risk. Can't hope for a resupply either. They're just going to have to hold on or but the supplies themselves – incredibly risky. All of this is assuming they can get those hostages, of course."

"They can and they will." LTG Pearce said firmly. "We'll chop them an extraction whenever possible but we have another issue."

"Sir?" The Colonel asked.

LTG Pearce said nothing as he turned on the monitors in his office. What they showed was something deeply concerning for everyone involved – be it American, Vassal State, or Saderan. "Our satellite just picked this up approximately twelve hundred miles from the South East – a goddamn storm and it's getting stronger."

COL Summers frowned, storm like this could do some serious damage. He could see that it had a diameter of more than three hundred miles with a wind speed of about one hundred and forty seven miles per hour – a Category Four. "When and where will it make landfall? Has the General Staff been notified?"

"Projections and simulations all confirm it – it'll make landfall somewhere between the Blue Sea and the Glass Peninsula. I've already notified everyone the second I got the report. Our boys tell me that it's still too far out for us to feel anything other than some frequent rain and thunder but it's coming and by the time it gets here, it could already be a Category Five. ETA on that thing is three weeks from now. If that's the case, Operation: Hellstorm will have to be put on hold. We can't risk our boys in this kind of weather. Good thing we launched that satellite because our drones wouldn't be able to pick this up until it was far too close." The General let out a frustrated sigh as he hated delays.

COL Summers nodded in understanding. He knew the kind of damage a Category Five could do, he could only imagine the destruction it could bring to the population here. The houses and structures here are not as robust and they have no early warning system to give them a heads up. The death toll would be enormous.

"What are we going to do, sir?"

"With that storm coming, we either move up out timeline or delay the offensive." LTG Pearce said. "We're not yet ready with the assault so we have to delay…but this could work for us."

"What do you mean?"

"The Saderans don't know that this storm coming – they'll be very unprepared." LTG Pearce said. "We hunker down all cozy while they get battered six ways from Sunday. The death toll and destruction of their military, economic, and civilian assets would be enormous – troop morale would also plummet. When the skies are clear, we hit them with everything. Between the storm and the air campaign, I think that'll be more than enough to force a surrender."

COL Summers thought about it and found that it was a sound strategy – using the forces of nature to one's advantage was often a good thing. "And as for the locals, we could use this opportunity to ingratiate them to us."

"Exactly."

This new development could be useful to the American war effort in the long run. Was it callous to use an upcoming natural catastrophe to further your goals? To take advantage of the coming death and destruction to make things easier? Yes, of course, but when is war a nice thing?

"I'll notify my men about this, sir. Should we also mention this to the Vassal States on the negotiation table?" COL Summers asked.

LTG Pearce hummed as he leaned back on his chair before nodding. "We'll call it as a sign of good faith. Speaking of the negotiations, it looks like we've been made." He sat straighter with a serious look on his face. "According to Tyuule, some Saderan spies managed to gather that the Vassal Kings agreed to a sit down with us. There is now a high possibility that the higher ups of the Empire know we're making our move. Of course, this could be some kind of ruse on her part but I want to be prepared all the same. Also, according to her, a high ranking officer in Army has plans in meeting with us."

COL Summers frowned but this came as to no surprise. It has already been anticipated that the Saderans could potentially find out about their meeting with the Vassal Kings via spies or traitors within the Vassal governments. The Americans had hoped that they meeting would go unnoticed but that was just wishful thinking.

However, he was intrigued that an enemy officer was going to meet with them. "What do you mean, sir?"

"His name's Publius; apparently, he's Meridius' right hand man and the son of Emperor Molt. He wants to initiate talks between us and the Empire to see if we can get peace. The only problem is that he is operating outside the jurisdiction of the Emperor and the Senate."

Right off the bat, COL Summers knew that this was something fishy. "If he's the son of the Emperor, then this could be some kind of plot. Probably an assassination attempt the making."

LTG Pearce nodded in agreement. "True, but this could be useful for us as well. For now, we focus on negotiating with the Vassal Kingdoms and continue building up our strength."

"Understood, sir. I'll notify the principles of this development but the Saderans will do everything in their power to make sure this doesn't happen." The Colonel speculated with calculating eyes. "They could send assassins to kill our representative as well as the vassal's…or something more creative. Either way, we'll be ready."

LTG Pearce nodded. "Good. Dismissed."

* * *

 **LOCATION: ALNUS HILL – MAIN OPERATING BASE: TEXAS PRESS**

 **TIME: 00:48:07**

 **DATE: KOSHA 23, 687 AC**

* * *

On the tarmac of the main operating base of the American invasion force were two V-22A Ospreys being prepared for a mission to infiltrate two ODA teams deep behind enemy lines to make contact with native entities willing to cooperate with them.

Thanks to the efforts of Task Force 117, these entities were convinced to provide support to the Americans and accept a team of twelve men as liaisons. While the rest of Task Force 117 and the CIA were busy trying to do the same with other indigenous groups that hated the Empire, a village of the Oflais and an old wizard was willing to cooperate.

In one of the Quonset huts of the main operating base of the American invasion force were twelve men storing away their personal belongings, writing letters to their loved ones, and policing their gear for their coming deployment. These men were members of ODA 5323 of the 5th Special Forces Group. Together with ODA 5325, they were tasked with establishing contact with the Oflais and the Wizard, respectively. Their mission: gain their trust, establish relations, use them in their war if need be, and locate any and all slave camps to rescue any captured American civilians.

While building relations were vital in this, the return of captured Americans was a big priority as well as the people back home wanted results.

The commanding officer of the ODA 5232, CAPT Buckley, sat on his bunk as he wrote a letter addressed to his three kids. He and his wife divorced years ago because – and he was being honest here – he was an asshole. On the other hand, his wife was as well. He always fought with his wife and it got to a point where they could not be in the same room without fighting.

He may have been a shit husband but he would be damned if someone called him a shit father. Issac may have his fair share of flaws but none could deny that he loved his children dearly. Perhaps that was the reason he tried to make things work with his wife to no avail.

Well, it was no use in thinking about the screw ups of the past. CAPT Buckley finished his letter and he sealed it up in an envelope and left it in the letter box before preparing his gear.

Compared to the other missions he and his team have gone and done, this was going to be a walk in the park…theoretically. After briefing the rest of the team about their new mission, they spent the rest of the day policing their gear and requisitioning the necessary supplies and equipment.

CAPT Buckley knew that they were ready for anything out there…the only problem was that anything could happen.

* * *

Just before midnight in this world, the two ODA teams in full battle gear marched single file to the two Ospreys. CAPT Buckley lead his team into the left Osprey as SFC Joe Nichols, the team's Intelligence Sergeant, counted every man going in.

"Got one! Two! Three! Four!" SFC Nichols shouted over the roar of the rotors and continued to do so until every man was on board. "Eleven! Last man on!" He said as he entered the Osprey and buckled himself in.

"All right, gentlemen, strap it in and listen up!" CAPT Buckley shouted over the roar of the rotors. "We'll meeting up with Sentry 4-1, one of the Colonel's teams! They'll take us to the elf village! Team 2'll take care of the mages! Remember, we're the closest thing to diplomats here so be nice!"

"Come on, Cap, we can be nice!" One of the team's Weapons Sergeants, SGT Sheldon Pace, said. "Ain't that right, Kevin?"

SGT Kevin Navarro, a Medical Sergeant, shook his head. "Don't drag me into this, hermano. Just don't get your culo shot this time!" The other men laughed as they remembered that one incident where SGT Pace was shot in the ass.

CAPT Buckley shook his head with a chuckle as he stripped himself in. Checking at his watch, he could see that they will be airborne in three minutes – not long now.

In the cockpit, the elite pilots of the 160th SOAR were doing the final preparations for take off. "Ultra 4-2, this is Ultra 4-5. Final checks and preparations complete – we are ready to go. What is your status?"

"Roger that, 4-5. All systems good to go. Mission equipment set, EOS, chaffs, flares. Awaiting on your go. Over."

"Solid copy. Standby. Warlord, this is Ultra 4-5. All systems are green across the board and heroes are strapped. Request permission for take off. Over."

"Ultra 4-5, this is Warlord. You are cleared for take off. Happy trails. Over."

The lead pilot nodded to his co-pilot. "All right, let's get this sow started. Ultra 4-2, we have the green light."

"Roger that."

The two Ospreys' engines hummed to life as the rotors accelerated. "ODA 5323, we are cleared for take off."

CAPT Buckley nodded. "Solid copy. Okay, guys, this is it!" He said and the men cheered.

As the Ospreys were taking off, SSG Noah Walters, one of the team's Engineer Sergeant, started singing. "Silver wings upon their chest." Everyone smiled as they joined in.

"These are men, America's best. One hundred men will test today."

"But only three win the Green Beret."

* * *

A few minutes after clearing the base airspace, the lead pilot knew it was time to separate as they were IP-Jupiter. "Ultra 4-2, this is Ultra 4-5. We are approaching IP-Jupiter. We are diverting course to heading 0562. Over."

"Roger that, 4-5. 4-2 is diverting to objective now."

CAPT Buckley saw that they were pulling away from the other Osprey en route to their own objective. "ODA 5325, this is 5323. Good luck, Josh."

"You too, Issac." With that, Ultra 4-2 pulled away to their own objective.

About fifteen minutes have passed and Ultra 4-5 was only two clicks away from the insertion point in the Coan Forest – it was nearly time. "CAPT Buckley, be advised. Wheels down in five minutes."

The Captain nodded and turned to his men. "Five minutes! Get your shit together! Jock up and NODs on!" The men acknowledged and they all got ready for deployment. "Sentry 4-1, this is ODA 5323. We're five mikes out from drop off. What's your status? Over."

"Solid copy on your last, 5323. /break/. We're waiting for you at the designated LZ. Deploying IR beacon to indicate our position. Be advised: some of the Oflai are with us."

"Roger that, Sentry 4-1." CAPT Buckley nodded as he turned to the pilots. "They deployed an IR beacon to make it easier on us."

The lead pilot nodded. "Affirmative. I already see the beacon about one click out. ETA: ninety seconds."

"Ninety seconds, people!" CAPT Buckley quickly checked his gear one last time before he was sure that he and his team were ready to disembark.

The Osprey neared the LZ – a clearing in the forest large enough to accommodate it – and it's rotors tilted in the vertical position in order for it to glide in. "Landing area in sight." Once stabilized, the pilots lowered it safely to the ground. "Hold forward. Ten, nine. Cleared on left, cleared on right. Five, four. Cleared for ramp. Ramp, ramp, ramp."

The Osprey's ramp came down and ODA 5323 surged forward to establish a perimeter around the bird. "Ultra 4-5, Eagles are set and free. Over."

"Understood, 4-5 is bugging out. Give them hell, boys." With that, the Osprey pulled away from the area to return to base.

CAPT Buckley had his men scan the perimeter for any movements as he tried to hail the other team. "Sentry 4-1, we're at the landing site and holding position. Interrogative: what's your position? Over."

"5323, standby. We are coming in from the North East. You should see us coming from your scanners. ETA: twenty seconds out."

The Captain looked at his DWD scanner and sure enough, friendlies along with three unknowns – probably the Oflais – were coming in from the North East. "Confirm, Sentry. We'll be ready."

Twenty seconds later, CAPT Buckley had visual confirmation of their people coming in so he took out his flashlight to signal the other team of their position. Motioning for his Warrant Officer to accompany him, they moved to meet with Sentry 4-1 and the three elves while the rest of the team held their position.

"Good to see you, guy." CAPT Buckley said as he linked up with the men of Sentry 4-1. "CAPT Buckley, commander of ODA 5323. This is CW2 Becket."

"Call me Cross, Captain." The leader of Sentry 4-1 nodded before he motioned to the three elves behind him who looked to be nervous and defensive – two males and one female. "These are your Oflai guides – Nelris, Dela, and Vaeril. Let's move out; I'll fill you in on the rest on the way."

"Understood." With that, CAPT Buckley ordered his Warrant Officer to get the men ready to move out and before long, they were walking towards the Oflai village.

"So, is there anything we need to know before this whole thing starts?" CW2 Becket asked as he scanned the surrounding forest which was hard even if they had NODs on.

Cross huffed. "Few things, actually. It took a lot to convince their chief to let you come here and they're still a bit jumpy. Just don't screw this up. Another thing is that they think your Captain's some kind of knight or something. It'd take too much time to explain so I just said you were someone important."

CAPT Buckley sighed as MSG Ross chuckled. "Only thing missing now is some shiny armor and a blonde horse to go with it."

"Can it, Ross." The Captain grumbled before turning back to Cross. "I think I can clear things up for that. What are the chances they'll sell us out or lead us into a trap or something?" He asked, eyeing the three elves who were whispering to each other. They may be potential allies but he was not some idiot who trusts blindly.

"You know the answer to that, Buckley. Just don't let your guard down." Cross said. "They don't have much love for the Saderans but they also don't trust outsiders – the usual shit. One of the leaders, Hodor, was hesitant in cooperating and he still doesn't trust us. You'll have a hell of a time trying to convince the Oflai to be friendly. How's your native speak, by the way?"

"Thanks for that." CAPT Buckley frowned. It would seem that this mission will not be as easy as anticipated. "My boys and I can speak it. Some words we'll probably fuck up but that's what the DWD's for. Any suggestions?"

"On how to gain their trust? You know, the basics. Offer them supplies – food and medicine for one." Cross suggested. "But there is one thing I noticed. When I was pitching them some proposals, they were pretty hardball until I mentioned a possible relocation site for them – that got their attention. Remember, they're nomadic so they might be looking for a new home. Use that."

The Captain nodded. With so little they know about the Oflai people, it would be best to tread lightly for now. Probably give them the small things first; let them warm up to the idea that they were the good guys.

"Okay, what can you tell me about this Hodor cat? Looks like he's the one we've got to impress."

Cross nodded. "Yeah, but he's not the only one. Do what you have to do to have them work with us. You're cleared to offer them anything within reason."

CAPT Buckley hummed with a single nod. Well, like his instructors said, if you want to get the people to trust you, start with the youths.

After a few minutes of walking, they reached the village entrance. CAPT Buckley slightly turned his head and gave a small nod. From the back, SSG Dylan Rosales, a Communications Sergeant, recognized the signal and discreetly activated a GPS beacon. This is done so command will know where the village is exactly in order to be analyzed and to determine where the other villages are using the date using simulations.

The village itself was quiet – understandable since most would most likely be asleep. The only people CAPT Buckley could see were armed elves waiting for them as the entrance together with an unarmed one. "I'd hazard a guess and say that he's Hodor?"

Cross nodded at the Captain's question before one of their elven guides drew his attention. A few words were exchanges until the three elves pulled ahead to meet with their people while Cross signaled for the Americans to halt.

"Hold for now. They're going to inform Hodor that you're the guys we talked about. Should take a few minutes."

CAPT Buckley nodded as he relayed the situation back to his men. "Just a few minutes, men."

* * *

" _So, these are the men they speak of?"_ Hodor asked as he eyes the twelve visitors wearily – he had his sword concealed under his cloak just in case.

" _Yes, Hodor."_ Nelris nodded before he let put a shaky breath. _"I know these men said that they had incredible beasts that could soar through the skies faster and farther than any dragon but it is another thing seeing it."_ The others with him nodded; remembering the great metal monstrosity that thundered over the skies that brought them here.

Hodor frowned before looking back at the Americans. When the original six came here, he was alarmed at how they managed to find the village. He was sure that they were deep enough in the forest that no one would pay them any mind.

Apparently, he was wrong when some hunters came back reporting six strange men coming towards the village. He immediately ordered some brave men to come with him to intercept the outsiders while the rest of the inhabitants hid in their homes.

When the Oflai surrounded these men, they tensed but showed no further aggression. Their leader, Cross, said that they meant no harm, introduced themselves as Americans, and asked to speak to the leaders of the village.

Hodor revealed himself as one of the leaders of the village and demand their reason of going into Oflai territory. Their reasons were civil enough – requesting an audience with the leaders of the village to hear the American's proposal. After much deliberation, Hodor gave them his permission to enter the village on the condition that they surrender their weapons.

He suspected that these Americans would react poorly but they complied surprisingly.

Upon meeting the leaders in the village's seat of power, the Americans laid it all out to the Oflai people. They were part of a much larger force from beyond the Gate that the Empire had waged war against. Naturally, this frightened the people as the Empire's enemy clearly knew where they were and could attack.

Before things could turn hostile, Cross had assured them that the Americans deemed the Oflai as neutral in their war and would not engage unless provoked. This lessened the tension a bit but it was still there.

One of the elders asked of their purpose in coming here if their superiors deemed the Oflai as neutral. They answered that the Americans wish to offer them a choice: stay neutral or side with the Americans. Either choice was acceptable to them.

Obviously, the majority wanted to remain neutral because the Oflai were nomads and wanted nothing to do with another's conflict. They were already persecuted and hunted by the Empire's Slave Trade and wanted nothing more than to remain in obscurity.

However, some asked what would happen if they side with the Americans; curious on what that would entail.

Cross made some interesting proposals. If the Oflai chose to side with the Americans, their primary function would only be scouts and reconnaissance – the Oflai would not be required to fight in full on combat. In return, these units and the Oflai would have the full support and protection of the American military; clarifying that this comes down from the Commander of all US forces in Falmart. Cross even mentioned that they could find the Oflai a suitable place to settle down in if need be.

That got the attention of the elders and were now considering the idea. When it was all said and done, the Oflai council was divided by half on what to do. Half wanted to reject the offer and stay neutral while the other half wanted to commit as they finally had a chance to find a home after so long. Soon, it all came down to Hodor.

While Hodor liked the idea of finally finding a home for his people, he was skeptical if the Americans could keep their word. He has lived long enough to know the stench and sting of betrayal. However, he sensed no deception from these Americans. Elves – no matter the species – and other demi human species had a certain degree of empathy; they could somewhat sense the emotions and intentions of those in close proximity.

After thinking long and hard, Hodor made his decision even though some of the elder council would disapprove. Knowing of the possible consequences and prepared to shoulder them, Hodor agreed to side with the Americans.

Cross nodded and informed them that an another American team would be brought in within a few days to act as their liaisons to the main US body.

Hodor let out a breath; that was four days ago and now, the fruits of his decision were blossoming. _"What can you tell me about these men?"_

Nelris looked back. _"Organized. Disciplined. Trained killers. Are you sure that this was a wise decision, Hodor?"_

" _I do not know, Nelris."_ Hodor said wearily, eyeing the man standing beside Cross to which he assumed was the leader of the new team and a prominent figure in the US Military. _"But it is too late to regret that decision now. Let them come forward; I will measure them myself. Keep on guard for anything."_

Nelris nodded before walking back to the Americans. _"Hodor wants to meet with you at the entrance."_ He said as Cross nodded and motioned for the rest to follow him.

CAPT. Buckley and his team followed Cross and the elf to meet with the head elf and before long, he was standing before Hodor.

" _Greetings, Hodor. This is CAPT Buckley."_ Cross motioned to the Captain who nodded in greeting. _"He'll be your official link to US High Command."_

Hodor nodded in understanding as he looked over at this CAPT Buckley and his men with scrutiny. So far, they showed no outward signs of hostility and their emotions were calm and clear.

So far so good.

" _Greetings, CAPT Buckley. It is…an honor hosting you and your men."_ Hodor tried to be sincere but he could not hide the doubt and tension in his voice – something the Americans picked up on. _"I hope that this will be the beginning of a fruitful alliance."_

" _Mine as well, Hodor."_ CAPT Buckley nodded, letting out a small smile. _"You won't regret your decision. We'll do what we can to help you. But I think we can continue this when we've gotten some much needed rest. I think you and your guys are a bit stressed for the last couple of days."_

On that, Hodor could not help but nod in agreement. He and a lot of people were under a lot of stress lately and were a bit jumpy. _"You're right. Perhaps tomorrow would be better for all of us. I have prepared one of the village houses for your use; I apologize that it might be a tight squeeze."_

CAPT Buckley shook his head. _"It's no problem. Thanks for the accommodations."_

Hodor hummed. While they did speak the native language of Falmart, it was somewhat…atrocious. Passable but atrocious. _"Nelris, you will lead CAPT Buckley and his men to their accommodations. For the duration of their stay, they are our guests."_

Nelris nodded but he understood the look in Hodor's eyes which meant that the Americans would be placed under constant watch.

* * *

 **LOCATION: KELNA VILLAGE – JIOLM PASSAGE**

 **DATE: KOSHA 24, 687 AC**

 **TIME: 10:21:09**

* * *

One week after the kings of the Vassal States agreed to enter negotiations with the USA, the representatives of the five states along with their escorts had just arrived at Kelna two days ago and had prepared the village for the inevitable arrival of their American counterparts.

Just outside the village was a large tent bearing the banners of the five states was the designated negotiation site of both parties and within it was a grand circular table. Soldiers from the five states were spread out to guard and patrol the area; ensuring the security and the safety of both parties.

Outside of the tent, King Duran himself stood silent and still as he let the cool wind of the sky comfort his nerves and the calming kiss of the sun's light warm his skin as he waited for the Americans to arrive while the others stayed back at the tent. Although his court greatly protested it, he volunteered himself to be the representative of Elbe in the negotiation. He knew the tremendous risk and danger he was putting himself into but he was the one who chose to negotiate so he must be the one to carry the burden.

Most of his fellow kings followed his example with the exception of King de Lunar of Alguna. It was unanimously decided decided that should something go horribly wrong in the talks, it would be up to the King of Alguna lead the combined armies in the war.

King Duran had confidence in the abilities of King de Lunar as he was a brilliant tactician and combatant but he hoped that it would not come to that. After all, he did not plan on dying today.

" _My King."_ A voice greeted at his right and the King of Elbe turned to see Captain Allistair Val Elliades walking towards him.

" _Captain."_ King Duran greeted back. _"Have you secured the premises?"_

Captain Allistair nodded. _"I have, Your Highness. I have posted soldiers all around the site and have organized men to patrol key routes. I have also assigned a detachment to ensure the townsfolk will not interfere and to calm them down. Currently, we are awaiting the arrival of our American counterparts."_

King Duran nodded in approval. _"Excellent work, Captain."_ The two men stood in silence for a moment before the King noticed that something was troubling Allistair. _"Is something the matter, Captain?"_

Allistair looked at his King and nodded. _"Yes, Your Highness. Something has been bothering me since we came here."_

" _Then, by all means, speak your mind. I permit it."_

" _Thank you, my King."_ Captain Allistair bowed his head in respect before clearing his throat. _"It may sound silly but ever since we arrived at Kelna, I have had this feeling. A feeling that we were being watched from one of the houses or from the hills. I do not know but this has been gnawing at me."_

King Duran frowned. _"Are you certain?"_

" _My father taught me to always trust your instincts, Your Highness."_ Captain Allistair said as he observed the hills. _"And my instincts tell me that trouble may come our way."_

The King of Elbe hummed. In truth, he was having similar feelings as well; years of ruling a nation and combat can give you a unique perception of things. Sometimes, he would get that little tug at the back of his head that someone was watching him and he believed what Allistair said that trouble may be coming.

Of course, nothing may come of this but it was better to be prepared. _"Do what you must, Captain. I believe that something is about to happen as well. Whether it be good or bad, I do not know, but it is better to be prepared."_

Captain Allistair nodded. _"At once, King Duran."_ With that, he bowed before going on to alert the men of a possible attack.

Once again, King Duran was left to his solitude but he knew, somewhere in those hills, eyes were watching his and his compatriots' every move.

* * *

Hidden in the Northern hills with the sun directly behind their backs, two-man team of Vulture 1 was observing the camp of the Vassal Kingdoms. Within their sights was the King of Elbe himself; his identity verified after a quick facial scan.

The other members of Vulture 1 were spread out in order to maximize their fields of view. Two were observing from the hill on the Western hills of the site while another two were stationed in the village in order to keep an eye on Lorenz, their man on the inside.

So far, things have been quiet since the Vassal Kingdoms have arrived at Kelna. Lorenz has been on regular contact with his handlers with him feeding reliable information to the Americans.

However, a new development has arisen.

"All Vulture units, this is Vulture 1-1. Be advised: significant increase in activity in the camp." The leader of Vulture 1, 1LT James Ramirez, a veteran of the 75th Ranger Regiment's Regimental Reconnaissance Company, said as he observed the camp from his binoculars.

"This is Vulture 1-4, we see it."

"Vulture 1-5, activity in the village is still the same but it may change momentarily. Interrogative: do you think we're compromised?"

"Negative." 1LT Ramirez responded as his teammate with him manned the Mk 21 Precision Rifle. "I don't think so. This is something else. Standby. Over."

"They could be expecting trouble." The sniper, GySgt. Jordan Harding, a Force Recon Marine, commented. "We were notified that the Saderans know this is happening."

1LT Ramirez nodded. "Could be. Keep your eyes open for any suspicious activity."

"Roger that."

"All Vulture units, be advised: keep an eye out for any possible Saderan personalities in the AO." 1LT Ramirez relayed. "Maybe that's what got them spooked. You see anyone with hostile intent, you are cleared hot. Negotiation cannot turn sour at this point. Confirm."

"This is Vulture 1-4, copy that."

"Vulture 1-5, solid copy."

"Warlord, this Vulture 1-1. We have occupied key vantage points overlooking the Vassal camps and have established armed overwatch over the camp. Sitrep to follow. Over."

"Vulture 1-1, this is Warlord. Solid copy on your last. Standing by for sitrep. Over."

"Roger, sitrep as follows: significant increase in activity in the meeting site. Possible infiltrators under Saderan employ suspected. Establishing sniper overwatch and request combat drone support in preparation for arrival of delegations."

"Copy all, Vulture 1-1. Relaying information to the delegate transport. Retasking the nearest drone in the sector – callsign: Firestorm. She's armed with Hellfire missiles and GBU-39s. She should arrive in ten mikes. ETA on Super 6-3: thirty mikes."

"Solid copy on all, Warlord. Vulture is standing by." 1LT Ramirez nodded looked at his binos and he could see that King Duran had decided to enter the tent. "All units, be advised: Gilgamesh has re-entered the tent. ETA on delegates: thirty mikes. Vulture 1-5, give Lorenz the heads up."

"Wilco"

* * *

Inside the tent, Lorenz had been given special permission to accompany stay with the five kingdom's delegates within the tent and was answering any question they might have for him with regards to their arriving American counterparts.

As he was explaining some things asked by the representative of Alguna, he heard the device in his ear crackling to life.

" _Lorenz, heads up. Count Formal and the delegates are half an hour out. Get ready."_

The man prided himself at keeping his composure but he felt relief in knowing that his Count was coming. Soon, he can breathe easier.

* * *

About thirty minutes later, Captain Allistair was doing his rounds around the meeting tent accompanied by three of his fellow knights. As instructed by the king, he had alerted their men for any signs of trouble.

He may not want to believe it himself, but Captain Allistair knew that these negotiations must happen for the survival of their homes. He was no fool; by agreeing to this meeting, the Empire would see this as treason and sought their destruction after their war with the American…that is, if they win.

On the other hand, they had no idea if they could even trust the Americans.

Even with all the combined armies of the Vassal Kingdoms, it would still not be enough to withstand the full might of the Imperial Army. As risky as it was, the only recourse the Captain could find was allying themselves with the Americans.

Captain Allistair scowled at the thought. Honestly speaking, he did not agree with the decision to initiate negotiations with a possible enemy but there was nothing he could do about it. All there is now is to try and make the situation work…or bear the consequences.

" _Patrols and guards have been doubled as per your instructions, Captain."_ One of the knights and Allistair's second in command, Lieutenant Holger To Satnou, reported. _"Considering the amount of soldiers at our command, that is not much."_

" _I understand."_ Allistair conceded. Between the security details of the kings, they have about a hundred men to command. _"It will have to do, however. Be sure to-"_

" _Hold."_ Another knight, Henrik Vo Birou, said, causing the two to stop and look at him. _"Do you hear that?"_

Allistair frowned before looking around. All he could hear was the catter of their soldiers, the noises of their horses, the wind blowing from the hills, and…a faint thumping sound?

" _I hear is as well. What is it, where is it coming from?"_ Holger asked as he tried to find the source of the strange noise. By now, some of the soldiers had noticed as well and were trying to figure out what that was.

As the seconds passed, the noise became louder and the men of the Vassal Kingdoms began to grow restless. Allistair knew not what it was but his instincts were telling him that something big was about to happen so he did what he was trained to do.

" _Form up! We could be under attack! I want every man ready for combat! Move, now!"_ He shouted his order to his Lieutenant who nodded before he bolted to the tent to inform his King and the other delegates.

Upon entering, he saw that King Duran was calmly talking to Lorenz while the others were looking a little nervous but composed. _"My Kings, we may be under attack. Please, remain here. I will post guards at the tent for your protection."_

" _There will be no need, Captain."_ King Duran said as he turned away from Lorenz to face the commander of the Order of the Storm. _"Lorenz here tells me that this is just our counterparts arriving."_

Allistair could not help but be confused. _"B-But, My King, are we willing to take that risk?"_

" _Believe me, Captain."_ Lorenz said. _"I know this sound better than anyone here – the American representatives along with Count Formal are arriving shortly. Please, you have to order your men to stand down."_

Allistair was confused so he looked at King Duran. _"Your Highness, please, I-"_

" _Order our soldiers to stand down, Captain."_ King Duran said. _"It will be very improper for our guests to see that we were waiting for them in an aggressive fashion. We have come here under the flag of truce and it is unbecoming of us to do this."_ The King of Elbe turned his attention to his fellow leaders. _"What say you, my friends?"_

The other leaders did not speak for a moment before Duke Pedretti sighed. _"I know the reservations you possess, Captain, for we possess them as well. However…I too want to see where these negotiations may bring us. Have our men to stand down."_

When all of the other leaders voiced their agreement, Allistair could only sigh in resignation for he had to obey. _"…Very well, I shall order our soldiers to stand down. But I will tell them to be ready for anything, nonetheless."_

King Duran nodded. _"That is acceptable. After they arrive, you may come here to watch the proceedings as an authorized guard."_

" _Thank you, King Duran."_ With that, Captain Allistair came exited the tent to find that dozens of men were mobilizing to defensive positions and formations.

The thumping sound was getting louder as Holger and Henrik came to him on horseback. _"Captain, our soldiers are ready for an attack. What did the kings say?"_

" _I have just received new orders from King Duran and supported by his compatriots: order the men to stand down and do not show hostility to whatever is coming."_ Allistair tried to hide his doubt but his voice betrayed him.

Holder and Henrik looked at each other with uncertainty before facing their Captain. _"A-Are you sure, Milord?"_

Allistair shook his head before letting out a hard face. _"The order came from King Duran himself – we have to obey. Spread the word: everyone shall stand down but be on their guard. These…Americans are unknown to us and I do not want to be taken by surprise."_

" _Understood."_ With that, Holger and Henrik left to spread the word. Leaving Allistair as he ordered the men closest to thim to stand down; all the while hoping that this would not blow up in their faces.

* * *

Up in the hill, the two sniper teams have been observing the site for the entire duration of this little show. Since the soldiers on the ground were a little worked up, 1LT Ramirez advised Super 6-3 to go into a temporary holding pattern just one click away as he ordered Vulture 1-5 to radio Lorenz and tell him to calm everyone down.

It took a little while before things cooled down but when they did, 1LT Ramirez determined that it was safe enough for the transport to come in.

"Super 6-3, this is Vulture 1-1. Order has been restored to the site – you are cleared to move in. Be advised: use extreme caution. We'll provide sniper overwatch from the North and West hills. Over."

"Roger that, Vulture 1-1. Super 6-3 is on approach. ETA: one mike."

"Copy that."

* * *

Even though the order to stand down was given, the men were still a bit jumpy as the thumping sound drew nearer. Allistair had prepared an honor guard to welcome the Otherworlders as per protocol but the tension was palpable.

King Duran and the other kings have also stepped out of the tent to greet the Americans when they arrive. Out of all of them, only the King of Elbe remained composed.

A few moments later, Lorenz spotted one of American's flying machines coming towards them from the North. _"There they are, Milords."_ He pointed at the direction and those within earshot followed his finger.

When they saw what was coming, they were wide eyed in shock and fear. At first, they thought it was a dragon coming towards them but it was something radically different from anything they had ever seen before.

The soldiers were getting agitated but the sight of King Duran standing tall and proud steeled their resolve.

Soon, this…Steel Dragon hovered over a clearing close to the meeting site and proceeded to lower itself onto the grass. When it did, its wings slowed down as the back of this monstrosity opened up and from within the beast came forth a wave of soldiers.

They took up positions around the beast before kneeling down with their strange weapons pointed slightly upwards.

King Duran observed these soldiers. He counted twelve of them and they were dressed in strange green armor and helmets. Their weapons were even stranger; looking like crossbows from the way they handled them and no swords.

" _Strange…but nothing Lorenz has not shared.'_ King Duran said to himself. He was curious on how these soldiers were capable in taking out an entire cohort but there was no rush. He heard one of those soldiers shout something back at the Iron Beast and out came two individuals.

One was dressed in what could be considered as highborn clothing if one were born from whatever world these American came from. He must be the American representative. While the other was someone the King of Elbe had thought to be dead for months.

The two men walked towards them followed by the American soldiers. As they passed the Vassal Kingdom's soldiers, they could not help but mutter to themselves and what is happening.

Captain Allistair kept his eyes on the delegates and their security wearily but he too was surprised at seeing someone thought dead alive.

When they were just a few steps away from the kings, King Duran stepped forward as he kept his eye solely on his old friend.

" _We all thought you were dead, my friend."_ King Duran said as he grasped the offered forearm.

Count Formal chuckled. _"There were times I thought I was, Duran. It is good to see you again. All of you."_ With that, he was greeted by his other friends who were all immensely surprised and pleased that the Count was alive and well.

" _Thank the Gods you are alive, my friend."_ Duke Pedretti laughed as he hugged the Count of Clan Formal. _"When we heard the news, we were distraught. We mourned greatly but now, we rejoice!"_

" _Let us not get carried away so easily, Duke Pedretti."_ Count Formal smiled before he turned to his trusted Lieutenant and shook his hand. _"I am glad you succeeded, Lorenz. Because of you, this whole thing may be possible. You should be proud."_

While Lorenz did feel pride, he was mostly relieved because he never did this before. _"Thank you, Milord. Though, I am just glad that I succeeded in my job and lived."_

Count Formal nodded and tapped him on the shoulder before he turned to the leader of the Order of the Storm. _"Captain Allistair Elliades, it is good to see you again. Why, the last time we met, you were just a squire training under King Duran himself."_

Captain Allistair stood up straighter. _"Yes, Milord. I have to be honest that I doubted your man's words that you still lived. But I am thankful that it be true."_ He let out a small smile.

" _Yes."_ King Corte-Real nodded. _"Just imagine the joy your three daughters and your people will feel when they find out you live and shall return to them."_

At the reminder of his daughters and people, Count Formal slightly grew concerned. He turned to King Duran. _"My daughters: Myui, Elle, and Loui. How are they? Are they safe?"_

King Duran placed his hand of his friend's shoulders. _"Do not fear, Colt. When I heard the news of your apparent demise, I sent Baron Gregor Bachrich and a hundred men in support of your city as current circumstances prevent me in sending more. The last I heard from him which is a few weeks ago, Myui is doing better in the company of her sisters and Princess Piña, thoug they still mourn for you. When do you plan on returning to them?"_

Hearing the his daughters were all right removed a great weight from Count Formal's heart as he sighed in relief. _"I shall return to them when the time is right – which brings us to here."_ He cleared his throat before he presented to them his companion. _"Gentlemen, allow me to introduce Lord Edward Caine, the representative of the United States of America and the man responsible for my and my men's survival."_

Edward Caine stood up straight as he let out a friendly smile at the representatives of the Vassal Kingdoms. _"Greetings to you all. It's an honor to meet with you; Count Formal here speaks very highly of you lot."_

King Duran and the others were a little unnerved because his voice was…unnatural…sort of metallic. So, they found themselves unable to respond at first.

Seeing the hesitation, Count Formal came in to explain. _"Do not worry. What you heard is only a translating device that Lord Caine uses to speak with us. It may sound unnatural but it is necessary for our negotiations."_

Nodding in understanding, King Duran stepped forward to greet Lord Caine. _"It is an honor to meet you as well, Lord Caine."_ He smiled. _"And I thank you for sparing the life of my friend and his soldiers. They only participated in that ill-fated invasion because they had no choice."_

" _It's quite all right, King Duran. We understood his position after he explained to us honestly."_ Lord Caine said. _"He and his men shall be released back to their homes as per our agreement once the Count has done what was agreed to. Which is to act as a mediator between the United States of America and the Vassal Kingdoms and any other who wishes to talk with us."_

The King of Elbe and the other leaders considered his words and found them to be fair and just. A little surprising considering what they and the Saderans would have done to a defeated enemy but there was no point in contemplating it; their ways were different from them.

" _Generous of you and your nation, My Lord Caine."_ King Corte-Real commented.

Lord Caine smiled. _"Yes, and if we can make this work, this could be the beginnings of something grand. Now, I don't know about all of you but I'm famished. Would anyone like to have lunch? I've taken the liberty of bringing some food and refreshments."_ He looked at the soldier behind him who nodded before spouting orders to his men in their language and two came jogging back to their Iron Dragon.

Duke Pedretti smiled at the mention of food. _"Now that you mention it, I am a little hungry at the moment and I am curious at the meal you so graciously provided. What say we continue this inside?"_

The Kings watched the two soldiers come back out of the beast pushing two carts out filled with domes. Even from this distance, they could smell the fragrant aroma of their coming meal. Even the soldiers of the kingdoms could not help but take a long sniff.

King Tarokh hummed in appreciation. _"Even from all the way here, that smells scrumptious."_

Count Formal and Lord Caine shared a look before they nodded and directed the party back into the tent.

" _Trust me, my friends, you will not be disappointed."_

* * *

 _ **OMAKE: Visiting an Old Friend**_

* * *

 _ **LOCATION: CEDAR RAPIDS, IOWA – UNITED STATES OF AMERICA**_

 _ **DATE: AUGUST 20, 2033**_

 _ **TIME: 11:03:32**_

* * *

Derek Westbrook was walking along the side walk of Lincolnway Village until he came upon the house he wanted to go to. Letting out a sigh, he walked up the pathway leading to the door and rang the doorbell.

"Just a minute!" A feminine voice called out from behind the door and Derek patiently waited.

A few moments passed and the door was unlocked and was opened. The one of who opened the door was a young girl who looked to be around fourteen. She had auburn hair and green eyes. "Hello, can I help you?"

"I'm looking for your grand dad." Derek answered. "Tell him it's an old Army buddy."

The girl looked a little unsure but nodded. "Uh, okay. Please, come in while I go get my grand dad."

With that, Derek was directed to seat at the couch while the girl went to get her grandfather. In just a few moments, an old man came into the living room and was surprised to see who had visited him.

"Derek, it's good to see you again, brother." He said.

Derek let out a small, rare smile before he shook the man's hand. "You too, Rawlins."

* * *

 _ **AN:**_

 _ **Hey, guys. I'm back after a goddamn long time.**_

 _ **Hope you like the newest chapter of GATE: Worlds At War V2. I'll keep this short. So, the US is making their moves on gaining some local support but this isn't going to be like the source material. I added the storm in there because I find that it adds substance to the story. Hope you like the world I'm building here.**_

 _ **'Til next time.**_


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